The Journal
by Therese Delacoeur
Summary: I saw it, but I couldn't believe it. The red roofs and the rushing waterfalls echoed in my memory, both distant and recent, both familiar and foreign. Haku sensed my unease, and grabbed my hand. That, too, was similar--the same, but not.
1. Prologue

Summary:

'I saw it, but I couldn't believe it. The red roofs and the rushing waterfalls echoed in my memory, both distant and recent, both familiar and foreign. Haku sensed my unease, and grabbed my hand. That, too, was similar--the same, but not.' AU It's seven years since the events in the movie have taken place. Chihiro's reincarnation is dreaming of the bathhouse. When Haku finally finds her, will she be the same as when she left the bathhouse? I think not. :D And so it begins...!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

EDITED 11/10/08 A/N: Thank you very much for your review, Syncopation! I hadn't seen any of that, and so I appreciate your comments. I fixed the repetition (I winced myself when I reread it), but I'm going to leave Val's name as is. The meaning behind her name (I think) is a bit representative of Val herself, as well as a lead-in to later plot developments. Besides, that's what I want to name my first girl (though my sister says she will disown me and adopt my daughter as her own if I actually do follow through with that ^^;). So, I apologize if it was Mary-Sue-esque in any way, but the name stays. :D Thanks again, my anonymous reviewer! I hope you can stomach the first part enough now that I've changed it slightly to at least attempt to read the rest.

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_**Prologue**_

"How the hell do you know about Yubaba? She's not..."

"Real?" Joe sneered. He strode up to me until he was a mere foot away, his face red with rage. I looked up and realized that I didn't need to look at him to know what he looked like. I could close my eyes and perfectly recreate him from memory. In fact, if I was going to be honest (if only in my mind), I could have done so the very first day he showed up at my school, because I had been looking at that face since I was ten years old.

"What do you know about real, Valkyrie Mary Hiver?" he continued bitterly. "You've been deluding yourself for over seven years. You have tried to make yourself forget this place, the people, what happened, convincing yourself it wasn't real, it was all in your head. Guess what? Play time is over, Val-san, and it is time to grow up and face the music. You have to save your brother, and _you don't know how anymore_."

I was shaking my head, back and forth, so slowly. "What are you talking about, Joe?" I whispered.

Joe laughed, a bitter sound that made my heart tear to hear it. "Call me by my real name, Val-san." He grabbed my arms so hard that I squeaked. "What is my name? I know yours; you know mine. Say it!" He shook me, as if he could force me to admit that I knew who he was - who he _really_ was.

I tried to make my tongue move, but I couldn't. This was frighteningly familiar - when dreams lock your body up so tight that you're a prisoner in your own body, so that the crucial moment passes and you can't do anything to make it right.

The moment was passing while I hung in his grip. I could see the fiery anger in Joe's eyes fizzle and fade until it was nearly gone, replaced with a matte despair. I slid from his hands. He remained still, looking as if he would try to pull the confession from my eyes from pure force of will.

"Say my name," he pleaded with me. I flinched as the bitter despair in his words cut through my paralysis. "I can't help you if you don't admit you know who I am. Who you are. Where we are."

"...I can't." And I couldn't. If I admitted that I knew what Joe was talking about, if I confessed that these darkest fears of mine were true, then I would be confessing that my dreams - my nightmares - my delusions - were all real, and I couldn't handle that. If they were real, I had no hope of getting David back, and I couldn't face that.

With that single sentence, Joe shut down. It was as if I was looking at a statue of a demigod, so breathtakingly perfect and dead it looked. "I guess I was wrong, then." He started to walk away.

I slid to my knees and stared at Joe's back. It was getting smaller as I watched him walk away from me for the very last time. This time, there was no hope of waking up.


	2. Chapter 1: Appointment

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

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_**Chapter One: Appointment**_

I've had these dreams for as long as I can remember. They're as much a part of me as my eyes or my toes at this point. I can't imagine a Valkyrie without waking up at least once in the night, having 'died' again in her dreams.

Mom and Dad worry about me. I've lost track of the number of therapists I've seen. My first one was a woman named Miss Rose, and her office smelled like lemon soap. I don't remember what she looked like or the sound of her voice, but her office reminded me of the Mr. Clean detergent my mom used to clean the house. It was the first and only psycho-analyst place where I actually felt at ease.

It was also there that she gave me my first dream journal to record the dreams. I'd write in them every morning, or every night, whenever I woke up, and I'd bring it with me to my next session and Miss Rose and every other analyst after her would pour over my entries and ask me questions – "Does this… Yubaba… remind you of anyone? Have you ever felt like you were being drowned by an unclean river god outside of your dreams?" – that always had the same answer: "No." And the dreams would continue, and I would keep writing, and the professionals would keep reading and shaking their heads until I got recommended to someone else, and the whole cycle would repeat.

As it was repeating now.

"Ah, Miss Hiver –"

"Hiver."

The therapist – I had forgotten his name – stared at me, looking even more confused than he did before. I stifled a sigh. "Hee-vair. Not hiver. (**A/N: he's saying "Hiver" as if it rhymed with "liver")** It's French."

He still looked confused. "Forget it," I finally said, and with a final glance at me, he buried his nose in my journal once more.

"Miss Hiver" – I winced but didn't correct him this time – "this is a very, ah," he struggled for a word. _Concerning?_ I mentally supplied him. _Strange? _Morbid_, even?_

"Upsetting." _Ooh, _there's_ a new one_! "I'll uh," he got up from the chair, clutching the book and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief from his back pocket. "I'll just be a moment. Why don't you sit tight?" He tried to smile at me, but I could see it was strained.

"Whatever," I muttered, but he didn't hear me. He'd already left the room with my journal. I tried to relax, worming my way deeper into the stereotypical vinyl lounge seat he'd provided for me, but I couldn't. I always felt anxious whenever someone took my journal, as if someone had a piece of me and I didn't want to let them have it. I pushed my anxiety away and ignored it as best as I could.

The therapist guy returned in a little while. He smiled more naturally at me and held out my journal. I tried not to snatch it away from him, merely taking it from his light hold. "I think I've learned enough," he said. "Keep writing in your journal, and we'll see what to do next session."

_Next session._ Great. Just peachy. I didn't let my frustration show, though. I simply smiled and pretended like another therapy session was exactly what I was looking forward to. He looked fooled. I was pretty good actress. I had to be, to be normal.

David was bouncing up and down in his seat when I left the office. I cracked a smile when I saw him. You'd think it was normal for a nine year old kid to wait for his crazy older sister to finish her psycho-sessions. "So? Was it fun?"

I rolled my eyes. "What do you think?"

David stopped bouncing and peered up at me. I suppressed a chuckle. "No," he said seriously. "I don't think you thought it was fun."

"Nice deduction, Sherlock." I glanced around the empty waiting room. A couple of People magazines were thrown on the coffee table, but that was hardly entertaining for a little boy. "Did _you_ have fun?"

"Um…" David thought for a minute. "Yeah."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? You don't sound too sure about that."

David giggled. "Yeah, I'm sure, Val! There was this really nice guy and – hey, wait a sec!" He looked around frantically. "Where'd he go?"

"I don't have time for this, David." I nodded at the secretary through the frosted glass. She didn't look up from her magazine. "Let's go."

"But…!" David looked around the office one last time and gave up. "I guess you can meet him later."

"Sure," I agreed. "Just as soon as I get some dinner." I held the door open for him.

"Do you think we'll have rice tonight?" David asked me eagerly as we clattered down the concrete stairwell.

I peeked outside the door. The rain hadn't stopped from when we'd dashed into the building half an hour ago. I grabbed the moist umbrellas we had stashed beneath the first flight of stairs and handed David his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles umbrella. "Probably. Dad said it was chili for dinner."

David's face brightened and he ran out of the building, his umbrella unopened in his fist. "I forgot!" he yelled over the roar of the rain.

I grinned and raced out to join him, opening my umbrella while I ran. "I figured you had. Now get under this!" I shoved the umbrella at him handle-first. He smiled his gap-tooth smile and shook his dripping head at me. I laughed and pushed him away.

"Don't you get me wet, now!"

"Why not?" he wanted to know. "You're already wet."

I looked down at myself and nearly shrieked. My white tank top was practically non-existent – my new emerald bra was now on display for every Tom, Dick, and Harry on the street – and was clinging to me in the most indecent fashion. At least my jeans weren't revealing my white cotton panties for the world to see, and my sensible sneakers were keeping my feet relatively dry. I grabbed the damp sweatshirt wrapped around my waist and threw it on, shoving the hood back. "Let's go, little bro."

"If you wish, big sis," David replied promptly. I chuckled.

"You know that makes no sense, right?"

"I know." David smiled at me. "It's fun to say anyway. Besides, you made it up," he added. "That makes it just fine."

I smiled back at him. David could say the most random things to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The rest of the time, I felt very cold and distant, but with David, I felt almost squishy. I took his tiny hand in mine and squeezed it.

"Let's go home."


	3. Chapter 2: Meeting

A/N: Guys, it gets dark in this fic, just a heads-up. I didn't rate it to be stupid. This is not as sweet a version of "Spirited Away" as the film is. I know it's different, please forgive me for taking some creative license. Thanks!

3/1/08: A big thanks to Vaughn for correcting my Japanese! Gomen nasai! ;)

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

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_**Chapter Two: Meeting**_

"Wrong."

I woke up, my heart pounding and Yubaba's cackling echoing in my ears.

I could still feel her nails digging into my back, breaking my spine like I would break a toothpick.

I could still sense my blood gushing out of my back and flowing down her hand like a crimson waterfall, flowing onto the crimson bridge as if it was a special lacquer I'd been forced to apply during my enslavement to the witch.

I was still aware of the tears that had leaked out of my eyes at some point during the dream, leaving tracks of salt for me to lick while I thought about which pig was my father, which pig was my mother, all the while knowing that the dream was rigged, that I never chose right, I couldn't choose right, I was always going to choose wrong and die, leaving Mom and Dad to die, too.

I switched on my lamp with a shaking hand and grabbed my journal. I'd thrown it on the nightstand after supper, in preparation for tonight's nocturnal murder. I didn't think I wouldn't have it; it happened every night since I was ten. I was forced to experience my death over and over and over again, feel my heart stop and my breath cease and my sight fade to black until I woke up to fall asleep to do it all over again. It was a wonder I wasn't insane. Maybe I was insane.

I smoothed the red leather with my fingers, waiting for the adrenaline to fade and the tremors to fade away, too. It was my third such journal. The others were lined up on the bookshelf behind me. Sometimes, on a rainy day when David was napping and Mom and Dad were working, I'd take them down and stare at the pages; not really reading, just looking. I'd trace my terrible handwriting with a fingernail and stare at the sketches I sometimes felt inclined to make, looking at the insignificant details I felt compelled to draw with the utmost of care while leaving the rest of the picture a dreamlike, hazy "it could be like this" sketch.

His eyes were one of those details, though I would never have called them "insignificant" for some reason – I'd even taken one of David's colored pencils and colored the irises in, a bright, almost glowing shade of green. They would always jump out of the page at me, staring like they could see me, and I would always stop my flipping to look into those eyes, as if the answers to all my questions, all my dreams, were there in those eyes, and I could see them if I looked hard enough or long enough.

But Haku was just a dream-thing, and he wasn't even a consistent dream. Sometimes he was there and sometimes he wasn't. He would fly in and fly out as it suited him, leaving me to struggle and bailing me out at the last possible second when I didn't think there was any way to avoid it. He could never stop me from dying in my dreams, but sometimes, if he was there, I'd dream a little longer, stay alive for a little longer, and that was enough for me to look forward to his appearances.

He'd been there tonight, I remembered suddenly. I'd been at the final test in front of Yubaba – it was rare that I ever survived that long in my dream, but I had dreamed this dream so many times that I'd gotten to this point once or twice – and he'd been right behind me the whole time. He'd set up one more test for me to pass – just one more test, and I could leave the bathhouse with my human mother and father.

But I never guessed right. I always died at Yubaba's hand, though the way she murdered me was always different. My brain didn't want me getting bored, I guess. Once she pushed me from the bridge and let the train run me over. I winced as I remembered the way all my bones had shattered from the tons of steel that had crushed me. It was a quick way, for all it had been painful. Another time she let the boar-pigs gauge me to pieces with their tusks. I was still alive – though barely – when some spirits began to feed on my flesh.

I shook my head, nearly growling. None of that had happened tonight, and I had to write down tonight's dream before I forgot it! I seized a pen from my coffee cup that had a dozen different writing utensils in it and began to scribble down my dream.

By the time I had finished the final detail of my brutal end – like I said, I had survived a long time that night and so had a lot to write down – it was morning. Monday morning, actually. I closed my journal and put it into a special pocket of my shoulder bag. Clutching the bag to my chest, I tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen to make myself a cup of hot chocolate (I hated coffee, though the hot water was beneficial to Mom's tea addiction).

The rain had passed in the night, leaving the sky nearly free from all clouds. A few lingered at the horizon, bright gold from the impending dawn. I saw all of this from the kitchen table, my cold hands wrapped around my steaming mug. But I didn't want to watch it from indoors. My dream still lingered in my mind, and before I realized what I was doing, I was slipping on my rubber shoes and closing the front door behind me, staring at the magnificent sky.

It was chilly outside. I shivered a little bit in my sleepwear – I wore cloth shorts and a baggy t-shirt to bed – and clutched my mug tighter. The shoes squelshed and squeaked in the dewy, damp grass. The air was clean and pure, free from any impurities from the city. I breathed in deeply and the last of my nightly demons was banished for the day. There was no clinging fog this morning, and I could see the city clearly. My house was in a suburb on a hill, and so my city spread for miles in the little dip of the land. The graceful spires of the downtown skyscrapers sparkled in the morning light, and the general cacophony of city sounds wound its way into my ears.

A slam right down the street was actually what jarred me out of my trance. I jumped and turned, tucking a stray hair behind my ear when it fell from the rats' nest on my head. A big van was pulled up by a neighbor's house, and a bunch of burly men were unloading what looked like moving boxes from the back of the van onto the front porch of the two-story white house. Mr. Smith, the man who lived there, was standing on the porch in his bathrobe, directing the placement of the boxes. He wasn't alone; there was someone in the shadows behind him, but when I tried to look closer, Mr. Smith saw me and moved toward me, blocking my view.

"Valkyrie, hi!"

I gagged slightly. I preferred my nickname to my full name, but Mr. Smith was one of those annoying adults who never called anyone by their shortened name. I waved half-heartedly, holding my mug with one hand. "Hey, there, Mr. Smith."

Mr. Smith jogged over to me, and I saw with a slight smirk that he wore giant green dinosaur slippers. They made stomping noises every time he took a step, though the grass muffled the noise somewhat. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing! I was just looking at the sunrise…" I drifted off when Mr. Smith turned to the horizon and shaded his eyes.

"It's real pretty this morning," he said. He looked down at me, still shading his eyes. "Want to know the news?"

"News?" I repeated dumbly. "What news?" He smiled big.

"I was going to tell everyone at the party tonight, but, well, since you're here and all…" Mr. Smith seemed almost about to burst with excitement. "There's a –"

"Valkyrie Mary Hiver!"

I groaned and turned to face my mother, who was stomping down the front walk. "What are you doing out here in nothing but your pajamas?!"

"Mom," I groaned. "I was just looking at the sunrise."

She barely looked at the sky. "I don't care how pretty it is out here; you're going to catch your death standing out here in nothing but those skimpy shorts." She eyed my attire with suspicious eyes. "Aren't those the shorts I said you had to get rid of? And didn't I say that –"

"Bye," I grumbled to Mr. Smith, who seemed quite disappointed that he wouldn't be able to share his news. Oh well. I'd find out that night at that party or whatever.

David was waiting for me when I walked in the house, a haranguing Mom nipping at my heels. He held out a piece of bread for me. "Trade you for the mug."

I felt very grateful that he wasn't even looking at my shorts. If someone said one more thing about them, I was going to strip them off in the front door and to hell with the consequences. I gave him the mug and bit into my piece of non-stale, unfattened breakfast (as I'd once justified having bread instead of the more traditional toast to my father) with zeal.

I ran upstairs with my bread and grabbed the nearest pair of cleanish jeans I could see. I strapped them on while choosing a scarlet vest – nearly the same color as the bridge in my dream, which made me shutter for a second, remembering those nails reaching for me… – to wear over top of a crisp white dress shirt. I pulled on my favorite pair of brown leather knee-high boots, zipping them up while my bread was held in my mouth. I came back downstairs, bread nearly finished.

"You've got ten minutes," Mom declared with an anxious eye on the clock when I arrived back in the kitchen.

I choked and nearly spit out my bread. "What?! What's the rush?"

"I'm driving you in this morning."

"Um, no! I'm taking the subway now, remember?"

Mom grabbed yesturday's newspaper and shoved it in my face. "Do _you_ remember yesterday's headline?"

My eyes unfocused then refocused on the print two inches from my face. "Teenage Girl Attacked on Line 54" screamed the title in black-and-white block letters. I rolled my eyes and batted the paper aside. "Line 54 is on the other side of town."

"It doesn't matter," Mom snapped. "I'm not taking any chances."

"Fine," I snapped back. "_You_ don't have to. _I_ will." I snatched my bag with my journal in it from the table and raced out of the house, ignoring my mother's indignant shrieks and David's "Hey, wait up!"

_Sorry, little bro,_ I thought to myself as I jogged to the nearby subway station, leaving my house and Mr. Smith's mystery far behind me. _But I don't want Mom mad at you for my decisions._

It was late by the time I made it to school. I was putting my bag in my locker when the first bell rang. I cursed and shoved it in, not caring if it got scratched or scuffed, as long as the locker shut when I went to close it. Toting my huge pile of notebooks and papers (my journal among them), I could barely see to walk, which is why I ran into someone not ten feet from my final destination, where I would've been safe.

"Watch it!" I snarled, and scrambled to pick up all my papers.

"Gomen nasai," said a male voice, and I looked up, startled to hear Japanese.

A pair of familiar emerald eyes looked back at me, and this time, I wasn't looking at them safe from behind the page of my journal. This time, they were looking at me, and there was no page I could turn to escape from them. They pinned me down as if I was a moth on a card, and I was helpless to break free.


	4. Chapter 3: Replaced

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

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_**Chapter Three: Replaced**_

The late bell trilled, startling me out of my sudden paralysis. Leaving the rest of my books on the floor, I turned and ran from those two damn familiar eyes.

My body was on autopilot – my brain still frozen back in the hallway – because without me telling them to, my feet carried me to my homeroom just a little ways down the hall. I fell into my seat, still clutching my books and papers. The rest of the class – the rest of the world – bustled and chatted and moved on without me, while I was sitting, unable to move or function or think beyond "No. This _isn't_ happening, this _can't_ be happening, _no_…!"

I don't know why I heard the door open. Maybe the janitors had been slacking on their repairs to the stupid old school. Maybe there was a lull in the noise that let it be heard. Maybe I just knew it was _him_.

Whatever the reason was, I heard the creak of the hinges and, if it was even possible, I became even more still. The class went still, too, but I hardly thought it was because they noticed my discomfort.

"Class," Ms. Marks called out in her annoying singsong. "We have a new student!"

Whatever silence had existed was now destroyed as all the girls started twittering and giggling and making calf eyes at _him_. I refused to look up at _him_, but a twinge of annoyance cut through the ice that had bound itself in my veins. Those girls were dumb, to want to flirt with someone just on appearances. Little did they know that they were making eyes at a freakin' _dragon_ who can't even save someone once after seven years worth of chances…

"He's an exchange student from Japan. His English name is Joe."

I couldn't help it. I snickered. _Joe_?! As Haku's alias? It had to be a joke. A lighter thing – laughter? – buoyed my spirit, and I felt my eyes raise themselves from my nail-bitten cuticles to the front of the room.

He was standing in front of everyone next to Ms. Marks. His eyes were looking at the floor, for which I was eternally grateful. I'd hate to start shaking in front of everyone – they all thought I was crazy, anyway, but I'd rather not be chased off to the nurse's office this morning. Save that for a test day.

But why was he looking down? The Hak—_boy_ I knew from the dreams was never this, this _modest_! He was always staring people down, his nose seven feet in the air and looking down at you. Okay, he was kind to me (when people weren't around), but whatever. He was never _humble_. He was never…wait, _embarrassed_?! What the…?!

But it looked like he was. His cheeks were quite red, a distinct contrast with his pale skin. Was he looking at the floor because he was nervous, or because he was embarrassed about Ms. Marks' introduction? I smirked. So the infallible boy wasn't so perfect, now, was he?

That thought gave me courage to look at him – really look at him. As I looked, my courage grew, because he wasn't like the boy from my dreams, not really. His hair, for one, was quite short, and not that shimmery dark green. It was black, like a shadow that sat on top of him instead of underneath. His face was older than the boy's face, sharper and more distinct. It was easier to read, too. His blush had yet to fade. He wasn't dressed in his bathhouse uniform, but that didn't say anything – I doubted Haku or anyone else would wear what Haku normally wore to an American school. A pair of jeans and a shirt with a blessing of patience and courage in embroidered in Japanese calligraphy emphasized the difference between dreams and reality, and I glanced away from his chest when I realized just how tight that shirt was.

His skin looked quite pale, like Haku's was, but that could be from studying inside all the time. (Those abs, though, said that he didn't _always_ study…!) His eyelashes were so long, they were almost feminine, but his undeniable masculinity made them hot rather than soft. His hands were just as elegant – or at least they would be, if he hadn't been clutching a set of notebooks so hard that his knuckles showed up white against his fair skin.

No, this Joe character wasn't the boy from my dreams. I felt the ice in my blood thaw until it left me feeling limp like a blade of grass. I was getting worked up over someone who resembled – _resembled_, not _was_ – someone from my nightmares.

But as soon as I felt the exquisite relief, the new kid looked up and pinned me again with those eyes. _Contacts_! I screamed in my head. _They're contacts_! I failed to convince myself, and decided then and there that, despite my previous logic, I was avoiding 'Joe' at all costs. Haku or not, this kid was not good for me. At all.

Ms. Marks finished whatever high pitched welcome speech she'd prepared and motioned for Joe to take a seat at the back of the class in my row. As he walked past me, I quickly looked to the side, determined not to meet his eyes again. If I was going to give him the cold shoulder, no time like the present to start, right?

I heard his footsteps slow, then stop, next to my desk. My skin must've been hypersensitive or something, because I could swear that I felt Joe's body heat warming my right side. But that's impossible, right? Right?

A purple notebook with sketches of eyes and arrows scribbled across the cover shoved into my line of vision, startling me. I glanced up and immediately wished I hadn't. He was looking down at me, offering me my notebook that I must've left in the hallway. I couldn't read his gaze, and I didn't want to. I quickly looked back to the notebook.

"You left it in the hal before."

His voice was just as quiet as it had been before, but it made me shiver. The speech was a little halting in English, but perfectly clear and understandable. His slight accent made him seem like everything he said was deliberated and weighed before he allowed himself to say the words, but maybe that was just him. I took the notebook, carefully avoiding contact with his fingers, which were splayed across the cover.

"Thanks," I muttered, and looked down again, trying to ignore the pounding in my ears.

He lingered at my desk for a moment before moving away. The warmth disappeared with him as well, and I thought, for the briefest of seconds, that I felt colder than I had before the encounter. That was plain silly, though, and I pushed the thought away to deal with later.

School passed more or less normally from there. I kept my head down and put up my "Don't even think about calling on me" attitude, which allowed me to ignore the lesson and everything else until the bell rang for second period. I had to shove my way passed the girls who had congregated around Joe's desk when the bell had rung, all twittering and trying to be the one to show him around the school. My eyes, completely undirected by me, glanced at Joe. He sat completely still in his desk, looking a little harried. The boys – were they jealous of the attention? – had left long ago, leaving Joe to fend for himself. I chuckled evilly to myself and slipped out the door to join the masses ebbing and flowing in the hallway.

Joe wasn't in any other of my morning classes, but my black mood lingered. When 11:30 came around, I was already exhausted and looked forward to eating lunch in the band room, maybe practicing my flute for a little bit before my next class.

The corridor outside the classroom was empty when I came. It was right next to the auditorium and there weren't any other classrooms down there, so students rarely came here outside of class. That was one of the reasons why I liked to spend my only free time in the whole day there.

Apparently, today I wasn't the only student here. A few notes echoed in the corridor, and I stopped when I heard them. Someone was playing the piano – rather deftly, too, so that meant that my band director, Mr. Christiansen, wasn't playing. I felt myself get vaguely excited: our piano player for symphony orchestra had moved right after the concert last fall, and Mr. Christiansen had been frantically trying to find someone to replace Sam.

It seemed that whoever this player was, he or she was pretty good. They were playing a foreign-sounding tune. At least, it was foreign to my Western-music trained ears, but the melody tugged at my memory. I had heard this somewhere before, but where? I strained to remember, but the memory whisp floated away, and I quickly forgot the similarity and merely appreciated its haunting chords and skillful playing.

I jogged the last few feet to the door and walked in, saying, "Welcome! We need a decent piano play-" The pianist turned around, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

It was Joe.

He looked at me curiously and stopped playing whatever tune he'd been plinking. I stared at him. "You! What the hell are _you_ doing here?!"

Joe frowned a little. Maybe my words had confused him (the curse probably hadn't helped) but he understood enough of it: "Trenton-san showed me the piano. She said I could play it."

I snorted and said to myself, "So Courtney Cheerleader-Prep-of-all-Preps won the Tour War, did she? I wonder why she left?"

Joe looked at me curiously. "Nani?"

"Can't you speak English here?" I snapped. "Just say 'what' like a normal kid. You're in the United-freaking-States of America, for Chrissakes! Speak English!"

He looked at me even more closely than before. "You speak Japanese?"

His look was making me uncomfortable, which made me more irritable. At least I couldn't really see his eyes – I would've been incoherent again. At least I could still say: "That's none of your damn business."

Joe ignored the pleasantry, if he even understood it. "I was told no one here spoke Japanese."

"And I said that's none of your business," I repeated. "What are you doing here?"

Joe took a moment to process the question. Then he smirked. "Playing the piano."

_What did he say_?! Was he… was he being a _smart-aleck_ with me?! He was gonna get it! "This is my room, dumbass! Get out!"

"Val?" Mr. Christiansen poked his head out of the director's office, muffling one end of the telephone with a wrinkled hand. "What's going on out here?"

I pointed at the now-subdued Joe. "Get him out of here, Mr. Christiansen!"

He raised one bushy eyebrow. "Why?"

"Why?!" I yelled, forgetting who I was talking to in my anger. "Joe's playing the piano in _my_ room, and-and _bugging_ me! Make him leave!" I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth. Crap. I shouldn't have said that.

"Now, see here, Valkyrie Hiver," Mr. Christiansen said in his director's 'don't mess with me' voice. The voice _and_ my full name. Double crap. I _really_ shouldn't have said that. "That boy – Joe, was it? – had been practicing for my spring concert when you barged into _my_ room and started screaming at him for no reason. I will not kick him out, and I believe I will actually ask _you_ to leave."

I stared at him, flabbergasted. No matter how abrasive I was, Mr. Christiansen had never asked me to leave his room. Shut up, yes. Play six and seven flat scale patterns, yes. But leave? Never.

I looked at Joe, who was still staring at the black-and-white keys. Oh. That's why. He had a new favorite. I'd been replaced.

I felt a burning anger seep through my bones and skin, white-hot and pulsing. It felt good, better than the ice that had accumulated earlier. I was _never_ going to feel uncomfortable around him again, I swore.

I think that was when I really believed that he was truly a regular kid named Joe from Japan and not a demon straight from my personal nightly hell. I might've felt awkward or annoyed around Haku because he never saved me, ever, from my death, and, well… Haku was just the kind of guy that made girls feel awkward, period. I would never have felt the passionate hatred towards Haku that I felt towards Joe just then, and that was what told me, more than his age or his hair, that this was not Haku.

I shot a look of utter loathing at Joe and stormed out of the room. I realized when I was three halls away that Joe hadn't had any music in front of him. He'd been playing that beautiful, haunting melody from memory, if not making it up on the spot. Even on the flute, I could never match that level of skill.

"Damn him!" I swore out loud, and got a few curious looks from passing students. I ignored them and stormed down a ramp towards the library. It, too, was often empty during lunch. It looked like it would become my new haunt, if Joe or Mr. Christiansen had anything to say about it.


	5. Chapter 4: Bonding

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Four: Bonding**_

I banged into the house, tossing my bag under the coffee table and walking to the refrigerator without taking off my boots.

Dad's head popped out of the study. It reminded me so much of the Piano Problem (as I'd been calling lunch's little incident in my head) that I scowled and buried my head in the fridge.

He cleared his throat. "Bad day."

I grunted. I didn't feel much like talking.

"Yeah, the worst," Dad agreed with himself in a high falsetto that I assumed was supposed to be me. "Well, what made it so bad?" he asked in his normal voice. I waited for 'me' to respond, but he didn't answer.

I turned out of the fridge, my arms full of chicken breast leftovers from last night, and narrowed my eyes at my father, who was trying not to chuckle. "You look like a lizard when you do that," he commented, adjusting his spectacles that were perched on the end of his nose.

I hissed my tongue out like a snake. "Gee, thanks, Dad." He ignored my sarcasm, and I ignored him as I set about making myself my early dinner.

"Not eating with us again, I see."

"What's with you stating the obvious today?" I wondered aloud. "You know I can't eat too close to bedtime; I'll puke it all up." I spread mayo on a slice bread and slapped a chicken breast on the other piece.

Dad tried to shrug while half-falling out of his chair in the study, but didn't do so well. He just flapped his shoulder instead. "What's with the attitude with your mother this morning?"

I nearly choked on the bite of chicken sandwich I'd just taken. Ah. So he'd heard. This was not turning into one of my best days ever. Time for evasive action. "Attitude?" I said around the chicken in my mouth. "I didn't 'ave an attitude. I 'anted to 'ide the shubway."

Dad frowned. "You know she worries because she cares, right?"

I rolled my eyes and swallowed. "I know, Dad. But I'm a big kid. You shouldn't worry about me so much. I can take care of myself, you know."

"But, really, honey, you're not, um…" Dad squirmed a little. "Well."

I raised an eyebrow while taking another bite of my sandwich, inviting him to elaborate. He did: "You're still dreaming every night, aren't you?"

"You're still paying for my stupid therapy sessions, aren't you?" I countered when my mouth was clear of food. He nodded unhappily. "So yeah, I am.

"But you know what?" I continued, leaning on the counter and staring down my father. "I'm dealing with it, _without _the damn therapy. So stop spending the money on me, stop worrying about me, and use the money for something more important. I know I'm broken, defective, faulty, whatever you want to call it – no amount of brain doctors is gonna fix me, and if you put me on medication after what happened last time, I swear, I'm moving out, minor or not."

"So what's more important than my daughter's health that I could be spending money on?" Dad wanted to know.

I started laughing, but stopped when I saw Dad wasn't joking. But wasn't it obvious? "Uh, the non-defective kid, duh? David's been asking for karate lessons for _ages_. Give my ears a break and let 'im go, will you? Please? I'm _begging_ you." I got down on one knee and clasped my hands together, slightly squishing my sandwich. I looked into his eyes earnestly. "_Please_."

Dad laughed, and his serious mood broke. "Get off the floor, Drama Queen." As I rose and continued eating my sandwich, he said, "I'll talk with your mother about it, on one condition."

I raised two eyebrows this time, my silent '_Yes?_'

"You have to go to all your therapy sessions."

"_All_?" I whined.

Dad stared me down. "Yes, _all_. If we're sending David to karate, we can't have you wasting money."

"Don't make me go, then," I suggested brightly, without much hope.

"No." The refusal was quick and completely expected.

I thought it over for a minute. "Fine." I had promised David that I'd talk Mom and Dad into karate lessons for him, and therapy was a small price to pay for my little bro's happiness.

Dad looked relieved. "Good." As I started to walk out of the kitchen, he called, "Be ready for Mr. Smith's party by 5, okay?"

Oh yeah. The party. I'd forgotten about it. "What's it for, anyway?"

"Mr. Smith's hosting a foreign exchange student from Japan. We're welcoming him to the neighborhood." Dad's forehead wrinkled, deep in thought. "What was his name again…?"

I froze on the bottom step of the stairwell.

"Joe, maybe?" I called softly.

"Yeah, that's it! Joe, um, Mushi?"

"Nushi," I corrected automatically, then frowned. When had I heard his last name?

But Dad gave me no time to recover. "Yeah, Nushi! Did you meet him today in school, then?"

"Yes," I bit out, and then I raced up the stairs, ignoring my father's shout to explain my sudden animosity.

I holed up in my room for the rest of the night, doing my homework and listening to rock music on mega-mongo blast. The speakers were pulsing in and out with the drum beats and the base guitarist's chords, and for a blissful two hours, I thought of nothing but the screaming lyrics and the quadratic formula, neither of which required any sort of emotional involvement. The lyrics were hardly recognizable as human, and actually, I had no idea what the lead singer was saying. I'd bought the album for the music, not the vocals. I mentally shrugged and replayed the cd. Who cared what they were saying? The music was decent, and it didn't make me think, or pretend, or do anything but just _be_.

Someone knocked on my door when the sun was directly streaming through my window. I turned down the music and glanced at the time. 4:45 PM. Damn it.

I opened the door and David walked into my room without so much as a "Can I come in?" I cleared my throat and he looked at me. I pointed out the door. He grinned sheepishly.

"Oh. Sorry. I forgot."

"'You forgot'!" I scoffed while he exited my room. "What if I had been butt-naked in here, huh? Maybe I'd been taking a shower and was painting my toenails or something? Get in here," I added, and David trotted back into the room, still grinning.

"Well," he said, flopping on my bed and making my mattress bounce. "For one thing, you don't paint your nails. You don't own fingernail polish."

"And how would you know that, David Marcus Hiver?" I asked curiously. A terrible thought struck me. "You haven't been peeping through my medicine cabinet, have you?" My voice squeaked and I cleared my throat.

David rolled his eyes. "No, I like being able to walk with two feet, thanks. I don't want you boiling them away in lava just so I could look in your bathroom. It never smells like that varnish stuff, that's how I know."

"And you remember that," I said sternly. I felt intensely relieved. I did _not_ want to explain tampons to my little brother yet. Neither he nor I was ready for that particular heart-to-heart. Maybe I'd foist the talk off on Mom…

That was neither here nor there, though. I got back to the topic at hand. "But maybe I was naked."

"I knew you weren't," he replied. He leaned back on my bed and traced my glow-in-the-dark star constellations with one finger. "You think that girls who spend their time lounging about in the nude are lazy sluts."

"Don't say that," I said.

David continued looking at my ceiling. "You say 'slut'," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm older and wiser than you are," I countered.

David sat up. "That's hypocritical!" he protested.

"No," I corrected, "it's just the rule of seniority. When you're the oldest kid in the house, you can say slut and bitch and whatever else you want. But until then, shut it."

He groaned and lay back on my bed. "Mom and Dad would skin me alive."

I grinned, showing my teeth. "Glad you realized that before I had to dig you out of your early grave."

His pointer finger stopped moving, and his lips moved silently. When he didn't say anything, I walked over and sat next to him, craning my head back to look at the stars I'd put up three years ago. "What's wrong, little bro?"

His finger traced a particular pattern in the stars. "What's that constellation? That's not one I've seen before in my books?"

I peered closer at the constellation and half-smiled when I saw which one he was looking at. "That's Draco."

David scooched closer to me. I felt his weight settle next to mine. "Tell me about it."

"Well…Draco used to have the pole star –"

"Pole star?"

"Don't interrupt. The pole star's a star that doesn't ever move because it's directly over the North Pole. Today the star's Polaris, but I heard that a few thousand years ago, the pole star was located in Draco. Anyway, it's really close to Polaris, see?" I pointed a little to the left at a bright yellow dot which I'd made Polaris in my galaxy. "So Draco never sets. It's out all the time."

"So it's always around, huh?" David was quiet for a moment. "I like Draco."

I laughed and tickled him. "You just like it 'cause it's a dragon!"

David shrieked and squirmed away from my evil fingers. "And who wouldn't like a dragon?" he wanted to know. "They're honorable and strong and brave and cool!"

"But they're evil!" I protested. "They steal treasure and kill princesses and never, ever, save anyone," I added quietly.

David didn't seem to have heard the last bit. "Don't tell me you believe that superstitious nonsense," he said. "Dragons aren't like that at all."

I raised an eyebrow. "Nonsense, huh? And what would _you_ know about dragons, anyway?"

David stood up and looked at the setting sun. "…I've been reading about them."

I raised both eyebrows. "That's new. Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you get decent books or whatever."

He squirmed. I immediately grew suspicious. "What did you do, David?"

"Promise you won't get mad."

I snorted. "Like hell I will! If you've done something stupid, I have every intention of getting mad! Now, I'll ask again: _what did you do_?"

David glanced at me and swiftly looked at the floor. His chestnut hair hung in front of his eyes, shielding him from my suspicious gaze. "I read your journal," he muttered.

"What?!" I gasped. "David, how could you? When?"

"A month ago," he said in a small voice. He didn't speak for a while, and then suddenly words just poured from his mouth, tripping over each other in their hurry to get out. I could only gape at him in horror. "I came in to get you up for school, but you were in the bathroom and it was lying open on the nightstand and I was reading it until I realized it was your journal and I only read a tiny bit and all it was talking about was this green dragon and it didn't sound like anything we'd been studying about in Mythology at school so I've been researching it during lunchtime at the library and why are you dreaming about Asian dragons, Val?"

I almost missed the question. "Why does it matter why I'm dreaming about them, David? And you know better than to read my journal!"

He flinched at my tone. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't know, and, well…" he trailed off.

"'Well' what?" I snapped.

He looked up through his bangs and I felt my anger begin to dissipate. I couldn't be mad at David for long, not when he looked at me with such an apologetic expression. "I've been worried about you," he said softly. He looked back at the floor and I had to struggle to hear what he said next: "I thought, maybe, I could help you better than those dummy therapist people."

I smiled a little, touched by his concern. "David, honey, c'mere." I held my arms open to him, and when he saw that I wasn't going to eat him alive for reading my journal, he ran over and buried his head in my navel. I rubbed his back comfortingly. "I don't know why I dream about Asian dragons, or dragons or anything at all. It's just a, a part of me, I guess. Like, I wouldn't be Val if I didn't have them."

David lifted his head to look at me with his dark eyes. "But how can they be a part of you, big sis? They hurt you. I…I hear you screaming sometimes, and you're scared, and it scares me that you're scared."

I nearly break down and start crying. My poor baby brother. He didn't deserve a broken sister or a workaholic mom or an absentminded dad. He deserved so much better than all of us, and I had to work harder to give him at least some semblance of normality. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Dreams aren't real, right?"

"But they're real to you," David said softly. He hugged me harder and put his nose in my stomach again. "Is that dragon why you hate dragons so much?" he asked me, his voice muffled.

I rubbed his back a little harder and sighed. "Yes, he's why I hate dragons."

David's hands tightened on my shirt. "But the way you described him in your journal, it didn't sound like you hated him."

My hand stilled on David's back. "Oh?"

David looked up and smiled a little. "It sounded like you loved him, and I wanted to see if I could love a dragon, too."

I leapt back from David, honestly shocked. "_What_?! No, I hate him! I hate him…" I looked back at David, who was trying not to smile. "What is it now?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You just sound like that one girl, Lucy Stanton, in my class who had a crush on Josh Travis, and said she hated him, but she really didn't."

I chuckled a little, my shock flowing away to be replaced with loving amusement. "I think my situation's just a hair bit more complicated than Lucy Stanton's, little bro. Now, were you sent up here for something, before we got sidetracked on stars and dragons?"

"Oh yeah!" David's face brightened. "Mom and Dad went to the party. I was supposed to go over with you."

My face clouded over, and David's fell. "I'm not going, David." My voice sounded alien to me, cold and extremely serious.

"But why not? There'll be chocolate…" he wheedled.

"I _said_ I'm not going!" I snapped, and immediately regretted my tone. I tried to soften it. "I'm sorry I yelled, but I can't go tonight. Tell Mom and Dad I have a headache for me?"

"Sure." David realized now was probably not the best time to ask me about my sudden antagonistic feelings towards our neighbors, and he walked up to me and kissed my shoulder. I smiled a little and hugged his shoulders, our normal ritual. "See you later?"

"Yup." I shooed him towards my door. "Now get going, or I'll really be mad!" I smacked his bottom as he walked out and made him shriek "Hey!"

"Oh, and David?" He turned around. "Don't _ever_ read my journal again, 'kay?"

He gulped when he saw my 'sweet' expression. "Right."

"Have fun!" I called, and I shut my bedroom door behind me and turned up my music, trying to forget about constellations and dragons that had no place in my thoughts.


	6. Chapter 5: It Begins

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Five: It Begins**_

I didn't sleep that night.

I did that sometimes: staying up the whole night, looking out the window at the sky, watching the whole world spin until I thought I could actually see the stars move. I had a telescope next to my window, and I spent the night looking at random stars and crap in the sky.

I didn't find my stargazing as relaxing as I normally did. I fought this wild, insane urge to turn my telescope earthward, which made absolutely _no_ sense _whatsoever_. If I had wanted to watch the party – which I didn't! – I would've gone instead of becoming a damn Peeping Val.

I heard everybody come home past midnight, which really surprised me. Usually Mom and Dad were better about getting David home at a reasonable hour on school nights. David's laughter echoed up the stairs, and I smiled when I heard it. I laid back on my bed and rested my eyes for a little while until the rest of the house was quiet again. I got up and refocused my telescope on the moon, fiddling with my special lenses and equipment to see the craters and mountains and valleys that speckled the moon's surface without going blind from the reflected sunlight.

The sun rose at 6 o'clock, and I thought it late enough to get ready for the day. I draped my purple towel over my shoulder and took a long, hot shower.

Too long, actually. David came barging into my room and pounded on my bathroom door. "Val! Hurry up! I wanna shower, too!" (The hot water heater in our house was so crappy that we could only take hot showers one at a time.)

I chuckled. "What?" I yelled through the pounding water. "Was that my little bro calling me in my bedroom? I _know_ it can't be, because he values his life too much to be in there without permission."

I laughed outright when I heard him yelp and scuttle out of my room. The water was washing my hair clean of my shampoo, leaving only clean hair and the faint scent of honeysuckle. I let the water flow into my ears until I heard a constant roaring, as if I stood underneath a waterfall. Rivulets raced down my arms and dripped off my fingertips. I flicked my hand up and watched the fuzzy rainbows that formed when the liquid diamonds caught the ceiling light through the haze of bathroom smog.

After my shower, I dressed for school – a jeans-and-baggy-sweatshirt-frumpy-but-comfortable day – and, grabbing my journal and stuffing it in my bag, raced down the stairs to grab breakfast and head out to the subway for school.

My hand was on the doorknob when I remembered something. Mom and Dad'd already left – Mom had a breakfast meeting and I guess Dad wanted to hang out with his friends at the golf range for the morning – so that left me to take care of David. I sighed and released the knob. "David! Get your scrawny ass down here now!"

David's head peeked around the top of the steps from his room. His hair was still wet and tousled from the typical guy towel dry. "Why? What's up?"

I pointed at my wrist. "I need to make the train, and you're not even dressed! Hurry up!"

David blinked. "Why?"

"Why?! You're coming with me to school, since Mom and Dad aren't here, that's why! Now stop gabbin' and get dressed!"

He yawned. "I'm going in with Joe today."

It was my turn to blink. And blink again. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right. You're going in with-with _Nushi _today?"

"Yeah!" David grinned, suddenly animated. "I saw him at the party last night, and he was the best! We talked about Japan and what his town was like and you've gotta see his room! It's the coolest! And –"

"Shut up."

David stared at me. "What did you say?"

"Shut up," I repeated coldly. "If you want to go in with Nushi, fine. Whatever. See if I care." I turned away from David's hurt face and began to leave. I remembered something at the last second and turned back. "And David? Tell Nushi that if anything – _anything_ – happens to you, he's dead."

David gulped, looking less hurt and more scared. I felt a cold kind of satisfaction – if only Nushi would be half as scared as David was right now, then maybe I'd feel better about this whole damn thing. But he wouldn't be scared – he wouldn't even be intimidated – and that small knowledge banished whatever satisfaction I'd felt at delivering my warning.

I didn't wait for a response. I left the house and didn't look back.

* * *

That morning became the pattern for the next month or so. I should've been feeling happier: with the days getting longer, the nights and my subsequent nightmares were getting shorter. They were still gruesome, but I was always close to morning and blissful consciousness. The school year was over halfway through. Mom and Dad were out of the house more often with the return of good weather. I did whatever the hell I wanted.

I was furious.

Every week, I went to therapy sessions with my psychologist, Mr. Greene. I sat for an hour as he ran ever kind of head test under the sun and poured over my journal as if it held the answers to the puzzle that I was. I wished him luck and let him go at it, knowing the whole time that if I couldn't find the answers I needed in that journal after seven years of hell, he wouldn't.

Every day, David would take his time getting ready for school, since Nushi gave him rides to school in Mr. Smith's spare car. Every day, I had to listen to David recite the ever-growing list of why Nushi was the coolest person in the whole world – no, the _universe_ – and if I dared to point out a single flaw, I'd get jumped on and told to be less cynical. My little brother! Telling me what to do! It was nearly more than my teenage spirit could take.

Every day – every single damn _day_! – I had to walk into my homeroom and put up with not only Ms. Marks but also Joe Nushi, the Japanese piano-playing frickin' _saint_.

Girls swooned wherever he went. I was surprised when I saw that he still tied his own shoes after the first week – I would've thought some vapid blonde girl would've been doing it for him by then. I heard dozens of rumors flitting around the corridors, all about Nushi and who he was presumably dating afterschool or on the weekends. Hearts burst and broke over the foreign celebrity, and I scorned each and every cheerleader who sighed over his every laugh, his every look.

It was odd, though. Nushi put off all the popular girls' advances and hung out with the bookworms and the band geeks, the junior varsity teams and the Science Olympiad nerds. I would watch him out of the corner of my eye with growing suspicion as he lingered quietly at the edges of their groups, smiling vacantly at a joke or nodding agreeably with whatever was being said. This was not at all what I expected of Nushi. He was plotting something.

He became something of an obsession for me. I would analyze his every movement, scrutinize his every expression, every intonation, looking for evidence of his evil intent to prove to my brother that he was nothing like the saint David pictured him. It made my heart heavy when I saw his crestfallen look as I'd recite another sordid rumor for his listening pleasure at the dinner table, but I had to do it. I couldn't let David be duped by Nushi. He had to see that Nushi wasn't the good guy he painted himself as.

In early March, David snapped. I'd been repeating another one of Nushi's presumed conquests while pulling together my habitual early dinner. "And so Emily said that Nushi just stopped talking to her, and –"

David slammed his math book closed. I stopped, startled, and saw that David was breathing heavily, as if he'd been running a marathon or something.

"Cut it out," David said, his voice low.

"Cut what out?"

"This!" he yelled. He got out of the chair and came over the counter. His face was red with anger. "Stop repeating those stupid things, Val!"

"Why?" I sneered, inwardly a little uncomfortable at this sudden confrontation. "Don't like hearing that your hero's not perfect? He isn't, you know. He's not some damn faultless –"

"SHUT UP, VALKYRIE!"

I gasped. I scrambled to think of the last time he'd so much as told me – me! His loving older sister! – to be quiet, but failed.

"Just stop it!" he continued. "Those rumors aren't true, and you know it!"

"S-sure they are," I stammered.

David glared at me, his eyes sparkling and wet. "No, they're not. They're filthy rumors spread by filthy people."

"And how would you know that?" I snapped at him. I was angry now. "You're not there, watching him pick up girls and flinging them aside when he's done with them!"

"He doesn't do that!" he shouted. "They're deluding themselves, Val. They imagine he's in love with them, and when he tells them the truth, they break down and turn nasty and say those nasty things!" The tears trembled on his lower lid and spilled over.

He was crying.

I had made my brother cry.

My anger dissipated. I felt my arms aching to hug him, but I knew that he would only push me away right now.

"David –"

I looked up from the countertop, but David had left. The screen door banged shut, flapping on its iron hinges. I could see him running through the spring rain. His footprints were etched into the mud.

I threw aside the dishtowel on my shoulder and sprinted out of the house after him. The rain hissed and cascaded down my ponytail to trickle across my shoulders. It made my black t-shirt wet and sticky. I struggled to breathe in the humidity.

I lifted my head and peered through the wet to see David turn left on the street. He was going to Nushi's house.

My anger returned, a thousand times bigger than it'd been when I'd been screaming at my little brother. I imagined that if I opened my mouth at that moment, I would breathe fire. I could practically see the rain steaming off me, my anger was that hot. I literally saw red.

How _dare_ he?! How _dare_ Nushi come and take my place?! He'd replaced me with Mr. Christian, and now my own brother went to him for comfort instead of his own sister, his own flesh and blood, who loved him more than life itself!

_But _you're_ the one who hurt him,_ a nasty little voice reasoned in the back of my mind. _Why the hell would he go to _you_? You've been acting like the monster you've accused Nushi of being all along._

_But I _love_ him! _I silently raged. _How can he leave me?!_

_And you've been doing a _wonderful_ job of showing that, _the voice said. It was dripping with sarcasm_. Spitting poison about someone he cares about at every opportunity, cursing and yelling at him like he means nothing to you. You treat _Nushi_ with more respect than that. You've pushed him away from you with both hands. You've got no one to blame but yourself._

But as soon as I heard "Nushi" I was a lost cause. As soon as I was reminded of him, I no longer heard reason.

Nushi. He was the one doing this to me. He made my life unbearable. He turned everyone I loved and cared about against me. It wasn't my fault that David no longer cared about me. It was Nushi's fault. All of it was Nushi's fault.

He was going to pay. Soon.


	7. Chapter 6: Confrontation

A/N: "Gomen nasai," as far as my limited (and now corrected) Japanese can tell, is "I'm very sorry." Hope that helps later:)

3/1/08: A big thanks goes out to Vaughn, for seeing errors in this chapter (and in Chapter One) with my Japanese. When I say limited Japanese, I mean _limited_. Vaughn – or anybody! – if you see anything else out of whack with this or any other chapter, don't hesitate to tell me. I need all the help I can get.

Thanks for reviewing, Vaughn, and thanks again for helping me out!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Six: Confrontation**_

It was still raining, but I no longer heard the raindrops pound the pavement. I couldn't hear my breathing, though I knew my lungs were still rising and sinking. I could only hear the pounding of the blood in my veins, the double bass beat of my heart. The drums of war were sounding in my mind, and my feet marched to their unrelenting, furious rhythm.

I was about to face my rival, Joe Nushi, for a final showdown, though he didn't know it.

Then I had no more time to think, because I was standing on Mr. Smith's front stoop, dripping rainwater on his pineapple "Welcome" mat. I raised my hand to knock on the door, but I didn't have to knock: the green storm door swung open and I was looking into the furious eyes of Nushi.

When I saw the raw, snapping fury dancing in his eyes, I hesitated for a second. I was afraid of him. I thought, for that second, that with a mere twitch of his finger, he could crisp me into lightning barbeque where I stood.

My eyes slid past him into the dark house, and I saw a hunched form shake and twitch in the hallway. David. So I'd been right – he had come to Nushi for comfort.

That thought alone re-ignited my anger. _All his fault. This was all his fault._ "We have to talk," I hissed.

Nushi's eyes narrowed and he stepped across the threshold to join me on the porch. A brief boom of thunder masked the sound of the door slamming, though I saw the wind chime attached to the roof of the porch swing crazily.

I stalked down the steps, leaving him behind me on the top of the porch steps. With the rain washing my neck and face I faced him, my fists clenched tightly.

We stared at each other, letting the rain pour instead of words or blows. I opened my mouth to speak, but Nushi cut me off.

"What did you do to him, Hiver-san?"

I stammered, outraged. "Wh-what did _I_ do to him, Nushi?" I laughed humorlessly. "I didn't do anything, you arrogant bastard. _You're_ the one causing all the problems!"

His eyes narrowed even further and he crossed his arms in front of him. "What did I do except clean up what you left behind?"

He ignored my indignant squeak and kept talking: "You spread those terrible rumors to your poor brother, making him think bad things about someone who has done no wrong. I was surprised, the first time David-kun came to me and told me what you'd said. But now, I am not surprised. You're a selfish, evil girl, and I am not surprised anymore that you stooped so low as to say those hurtful things about someone else."

A roaring echo was all that I heard once he stopped his speech. He stood on the porch, glaring at me, his face suffused with anger. A crack of lightning lit the sky above the house, and in that moment, I thought I could see his canines grow and sharpen, like a wolf's. But the dark descended again, and Nushi was just glaring at me.

His words hit deeply, but I cut back: "So you're telling me none of the rumors were true? That you led girls on, then dumped them when you'd had enough?"

"_They. Are. Not. True_," he spat.

I laughed, but it wasn't a kind sound. "Amanda?"

I had him there, and he knew it. He stood very still. Amanda Fowler was a very petite, mousy girl whose only redeeming quality (according to the semi-perverted guy population at my school) was her hair. It was a deep chocolate brown, perfectly straight and it fell to her waist whenever it wasn't done up in her favorite purple hairband.

I'd seen Nushi hanging out with her on a number of occasions last week. I'd even spotted them hugging once underneath one of the school's ornamental pear trees. I'd felt queasy at the nauseating sight and had had to look away. Three days after that, I'd overheard Emily Hatter comforting a hysterical Amanda in the girl's bathroom. She refused to leave the handicapped stall because she was devastated over 'her breakup with him.'

It didn't take very much to figure out who 'he' was.

Nushi breathed deeply and came down the steps to stand in front of me. The rain dribbled off his bangs and weighed them down into his face. The odd light of the stormy evening made his hair take on a greenish cast, glistening under the water droplets. "Amanda-san was being overly dramatic," he said. I could hear the effort it was taking him to speak evenly.

"Amanda? Dramatic? Don't make me laugh! She's the most realistic person I've ever met! I've never met anyone whose feet were so firmly nailed to the ground!" I gathered my courage and actually poked him in the chest. His eyes widened with the contact, and I felt my fingertip flare with the heat from his body. Nushi was very warm in the rain.

I looked away and fought back a blush. (A blush?! What the hell was happening to me?!) "You did something to her, and don't you dare tell me you didn't!"

"I didn't do anything! It didn't work out, and I told her so. She got upset. That's all."

I turned to Nushi again. "I don't believe you."

"Believe me or not," he said through gritted teeth, "but that's the truth, you witch!"

I don't know what happened next. One second, my hand was laying limply by my side, the next, Nushi had my wrist in a hot, firm grip. "Don't you dare hit me," he whispered, and I shivered from the intense emotion I heard being suppressed in his voice, "or I swear by all the spirits you will regret it, woman or not."

I stared at him. He was breathing heavily through his nose and his fingers trembled around my hand. We stood like that for at least a minute, maybe longer – I couldn't tell. I felt his pulse slam through his hand, and my heartbeat seemed to race to catch up with his. My normally freezing hands grew warm under his hold.

"Stop it!"

David ran towards us from the house. Nushi dropped my raised hand like it had suddenly turned into a viper. It took a moment for me to realize I'd been released, and I slowly lowered my hand as David approached us, his eyes red and his nose running.

"Stop fighting! It's not nice!"

Nushi turned to David and dropped to his knees, heedless of the mud. "I am sorry for becoming upset," he said softly to my little brother, and David smiled at him. I felt my anger simmer to the surface.

"I'm not the one you should apologize to, Joe," he said.

Nushi jerked a little when David called him by his English name, and stiffly he rose and bowed in my general direction. "I am sorry for losing my temper, Hiver-san."

I opened my mouth to tell him, yeah, that's right, you better well _damn_ be sorry, you bastard, but David glared at me. I released the breath I'd been holding. "I…I accept your apology."

David raised one eyebrow to me. "_And_…?"

"And what?" I snapped at my brother. I swear I heard Nushi hiss softly at me. I guess he wasn't happy with my tone. I took a deep breath. "I'm really, really sorry, David. I've been awful to you, and you didn't deserve any of it. I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you should be saying that to," David replied with a hint of a smirk.

I bit back a yell. "What are you talking about? I don't owe that… that _snake_ an apology!"

Nushi's face grew stormy when he heard me, and the rain doubled in force. David had to shout to be heard above the storm. "Joe didn't do anything, either! Say you're sorry!"

"_Sorry_?!" I screeched, my voice almost drowned out. "_He_'s the one who needs to apologize to _me! _Again! And again, and again, because he's a selfish snake who can't do anything right!" I started crying, but neither boy noticed because of the rain. My mouth kept going, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"He's disloyal and evil and cruel. He tortures people by pretending to 'save' them but leaving them to die when he leaves them all alone! Alone, with no familiar face in a damn house full of strangers! He's got the power to save them, but he never does and he never will because he's a _coward_!"

I collapsed onto the front walk, sobbing into my hands. My tears flowed into the rain, and I felt bizarrely grateful for the heavy storm. No one could've heard my outburst in the all-consuming rain, and maybe they wouldn't see that I was crying.

But they could see my paralysis. David came over and hugged my shoulders as I shook from the force of my sobs, murmuring "It's okay, don't worry, big sis, whatever it is, it's okay, it's okay…" over and over in my ears until my sorrow and frustration slowed from a tidal wave threatening to swamp me, to a river, to a trickle, and then to nothing. David and I held each other for a long time.

A small breeze sprang up and dried the last of my tears from my cheeks. I raised my head and saw Nushi still standing there and looking supremely uncomfortable having a hysterical girl and her too-wise brother squatting on his front walk.

I chuckled a little wetly and extracted myself from my brother's embrace. "Nushi…"

"That's alright," he cut me off roughly. "You don't really have to apologize."

I glanced at David's hopeful face and sighed. I had to do it, if only to begin mending fences with my brother. "No, Nushi, I really do, for my terrible behavior towards you since you have arrived. Gomen nasai, Nushi-san." I bowed low, my palms on my thighs, in proper Japanese fashion.

I looked up through my soggy bangs and smirked when I saw Nushi's stunned face. I could have knocked him over with a breath, if I'd wanted to. He saw me smirking and quickly gathered his wits. He returned my bow with one just as deep, murmuring, "Thank you for the apology." He added something else too softly for me to hear.

I was going to ask for him to repeat himself when David's hand slipped into mine. "Wow, Val, your hand is awfully warm," he remarked.

I touched the hand that David had grabbed. "You're right." I half-smiled and looked at Nushi for some reason. He looked back at me, and for the first time since meeting him, I didn't feel angry or uncomfortable. I felt…_relieved_, like a great pressure had been building inside of me and only now that it was gone did I even realize it had been there. His eyes were dark in the dazzling afterglow sunset of the storm. The rain had stopped, and the wind blew again, ruffling his dark hair and making everyone shiver. I broke my gaze to look at David. He looked quite pale from the cold.

"That's it, back home for you, young man," I ordered my brother, and I began to steer him back out of Mr. Smith's yard. "Time for a shower for you!"

"Wait a sec!" David pulled me back to where Nushi was. David tugged on Nushi's hand and clung to it. "Can I come over tomorrow, Joe? Please?" I laughed when I saw him pull out the puppy dog look.

Nushi laughed, too, and glanced swiftly at me. "Of course, David-kun," Nushi said.

"Can Val come, too?"

Nushi and I both choked. "Um, I think not," I said, my voice coming out a little strangled. We looked at each other, and I saw such a similar look of shock in his eyes that I had to laugh again. "Definitely not tomorrow, David. Now let's get you cleaned up!"

I had taken a step towards the gate when I felt a hesitant hand on my shoulder. I shivered and looked behind me. "You can come if you'd like, Hiver-san," Nushi said quietly.

I gulped. The shock was still in his eyes, mixed with a little wariness, but I saw something else in his gaze – Excitement? Nervousness? _Hope_? – that made me uncomfortable again, and with my uncomfort, my light grasp on pleasantness was lost.

"No, thanks," I said, and jerked my shoulder out of his grip.

Nushi didn't seem mad at my abruptness. On the contrary, he smiled and said, "Until tomorrow, then, David-kun. Hiver-san." He walked back into his house and shut the door quietly behind him.

David sneezed. I started walking again, pulling him along with me. "If you get a cold for running out in the rain, you deserve it!" I scolded. The sun turned the road to amber shadow beneath us, and I could pick out bits of red in David's rapidly drying hair.

David rolled his eyes. "Whatever, sis." He glanced behind us. "Hey, look!"

I looked. Nushi was standing at an upper window, watching us leave. David waved vigorously at his friend, and I thought I saw Nushi smile before he left the window. David let go of my hand and skipped ahead into the house.

I watched as the curtains flickered in the window Nushi had been standing at. Hesitantly, I raised a hand to wave, but I realized at the last second what an idiot I must look like, waving at an empty window. I shoved my hand into my pocket and continued into the house, scowling as David ran around the kitchen like a puppy, making puddles all over the floor that I would have to clean up before Mom and Dad came home and saw the mess.

I sighed. Life was back to normal, or as normal as it ever got for me.


	8. Chapter 7: Lessons

A/N: I've decided that I need a break from the emotional angsty revelations with our heroes for a chapter, so this will focus more on the relationships between everybody, including minor doses of fluff because I miss fluff! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Seven: Lessons**_

"David? Where are you going?" I stared at my little brother. "And what are you wearing?"

"What?" He twisted to look at the sash that was tied around his waist. "My belt's not twisted, is it?"

"What are you _wearing_?" I repeated, flummoxed. David had on an outfit I'd never seen before. It seemed to be made from a very stiff dark grey material. The pants were long on him – so long that I saw that they had been rolled up a few times to allow him to move without tripping – and the sleeves on the strange jacket was the same as well.

He plucked at his sleeve. "It's a gi. I'm wearing it to my lessons."

I scrunched up my forehead, frowning slightly. "Lessons?"

David rolled his eyes. "Yeah, lessons! Mom and Dad are letting me take karate now, remember?"

"That's right!" I laughed a little at my own forgetfulness. "I'd plumb forgot about it! But weren't they having trouble finding you a school?"

"Mmm," David hummed. He shifted from one foot to the other, his fingers clutching a pair of socks tightly. My frown came back.

"_David_," I said warningly. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Well, Mom and Dad still haven't found a dojo (**A/N: Here, it's a place where one learns karate**) for me yet…"

"So why are you going to lessons?" David's evasiveness was making me suspicious.

"Um…" David wavered, looked at me, swallowed, and capitulated: "Joe's teaching me until Dad can find a dojo."

I choked and spat my hot chocolate all over my math textbook. "Shit!" I jumped up and started dabbing at the pages with tissues from the Kleenex box next to me. David tried to sneak out the door while I was distracted with my mess.

"Don't even think about it." I continued wiping at the pages, hiding my flaming face from my brother to avoid any questions that I didn't want to answer – or, rather, that I wasn't able to.

But David was just thinking about avoiding the scolding that he thought was coming. "But Val, he's really good! He's a trained teacher and everything! I know you don't like him, but I'm learning a lot, really, I am!"

I threw the sopping tissues into the garbage can. "Well," I drawled, straightening from my bent position now that my flush had subsided and looking at my brother's panicked face, "I think I'm going to have to see this for myself."

David's shoulders relaxed a tiny bit, but his face was still wary. "See what?"

I didn't stop to think, otherwise I wouldn't have done it: I slipped my feet into a pair of green rubber garden shoes. "Your lesson, of course!"

David gawked. "But you don't know anything about karate!"

"No, but I have to assess Nushi's teaching capabilities for myself, regardless of my own expertise in the area," I called breezily over my shoulder. I'd left the house while I was talking, leaving David stammering and protesting in the kitchen. _What is _wrong_ with you?! _the rational part of my brain screamed, but somehow I'd unplugged my common sense.

I was to the street by the time David caught up to me. "I don't know about this, Val…" David said nervously, fiddling with the crisp white belt around his middle. "Joe doesn't really like people watching our practices."

"Well, I'm not _people_, I'm your older sister," I informed him, opening the gate to Mr. Smith's house. "And as such, I have a responsibility to you to make sure you're getting the best quality education around."

"So you don't think Joe's good enough for me, is that it?" David raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Or do you have some other reason?"

I restrained from hitting that annoying smirk off his face. Where had he learned to do that annoying thing with his eyebrow? Certainly not from me! My mercurial mood shifted to irritation. "No," I said testily. "This is all for you, little brother."

"Are you sure about that?" David insisted.

"Yes, I'm sure!" I snapped as we walked around to the back of the house. "There is no other reason whatsoever that I would actually come over to see Nushi –" We rounded the corner and my jaw dropped open when I saw who was in the backyard. "—myself," I finished weakly. And then the power of speech left me entirely as I stared and David smirked.

Nushi hadn't seen us yet. His back was to the house – and so to us – and he seemed completely absorbed in whatever exercise he was doing just then. It looked like he was dancing in place, his fists curving and dipping through the air at imaginary enemies, his feet flickering out in front of him as fast as a cobra strike. His hair was flopping around unbound on his forehead. It had grown since he'd first come here, and I vaguely wondered why he didn't put it back in a ponytail or something to keep it out of his face.

I only vaguely wondered that because the majority of my attention was fastened on his body. Nushi was practicing without a shirt on, allowing me a clear view of his frankly extremely well-developed physique. I watched, fascinated, as the muscles rippled and bunched under his skin, flowing with the punches, snapping out with the lunges and blocks. He was so pale, it looked like he was glowing in the afternoon sun.

If you could make a man out of paper and give him muscles like taunt wire cables, you would be close to remaking Joe Nushi's body.

A feral scream raked across my hearing, shattering my dazed reverie. I jumped and shrieked, looking frantically for the danger that had caused such a scream.

David laughed at me. "It was just Joe, Val. Calm down."

"Calm down?" My common sense was suddenly back in place, and I felt completely exposed and embarrassed. I glared at my brother (who was trying not to laugh again) as if it was all his fault for my being caught in this mortifying situation. "How can I calm down when people are screaming for no apparent reason?"

"It wasn't a scream, it was a kei (**A/N: kee-eye**), so chill, okay?"

I refused to call that noise by anything other than what it was: "And why was Nushi screaming?"

"It helps the abdominal muscles tighten in preparation for an attack."

I gasped and looked up. Nushi was standing in front of us, hands on his hips. His hair was matted with dark sweat, bringing out dark highlights in the strands, though I noticed he wasn't even breathing heavily with the exercise. "It also serves as an intimidation tactic during combat," he continued. "It's a little…distracting."

"There's still no reason for scaring the living daylights out of me!" I snapped at him, trying desperately to keep my eyes fixed to his chin, neither looking at his chest and amazing six-pack nor into his eyes.

Nushi didn't make a move. "I wouldn't have scared you if you weren't here uninvited."

I flushed a little. Nushi was right – I had barged in without thinking, despite my little brother's warnings. That slice of humble pie did nothing to help my mood. "I was invited," I reminded him tersely. "Last week, you said I could come if I wanted to. So I wanted to come, so I came, though I doubt I'll want to come by if you keep acting like this!"

"Like how?" Nushi shot back. "Like someone who's being insulted by an uninvited guest?"

"Guys!" David yelled, stomping his foot. Immediately, the argument stopped and we both looked away, ashamed of our behavior.

David smiled brightly once the silence had stretched on long enough and I suppose he considered us both sufficiently chastised. "Can I have my lesson now, Joe?"

Nushi's entire body posture relaxed. I hadn't realized how tense he was until he wasn't anymore. "Sure," he said with a smile. He grabbed my brother's shoulder and steered him towards the middle of the yard.

He was about to begin the lesson when I cleared my throat loudly. Nushi glanced back at me. "Hai, Hiver-san?"

I rolled my eyes at his Japanese. He was only using it to annoy me, I was sure of it. "Could you put a shirt on, maybe, Nushi? I came to watch David's karate lesson, not naked men."

"Val!" David sounded scandalized, and I hid a chuckled despite my annoyance with his instructor.

Nushi's mouth quirked at the edges – was he hiding a smile? – and he reached for a pile of black fabric lying at the bottom of a lilac bush behind him. "If you weren't here, you wouldn't have to see naked men," he observed in a completely neutral tone.

"If the men would observe societal norms and wear clothing, I wouldn't be looking at naked men, either," I answered him sweetly.

Nushi shrugged into the jacket, letting the cloth ties hang untied. I could still see glimpses of the pale flesh underneath, but only when he moved. He turned his back on me and focused on my brother.

For the next hour, I watched with grudging respect as David and Nushi worked together on the basics of the moves. David was by no means a natural at the martial arts, but Nushi didn't once get impatient, showing him the correct stance one more time. David didn't mind Nushi maneuvering him into better positions, thrusting his block a little higher, forcing his punch to be a little straighter.

Eventually, Nushi was confident enough in David's ability to do the most basic kata – a war dance, Nushi'd said, that was supposed to be like a pretend battle – that he left him alone to practice on his own. David was huffing and puffing from the hard workout he'd been through, but he settled down to work on the kata with a steely determination that surprised me and made me feel just the tiniest bit proud of him. I knew that this whole lesson had to be hard on him, but he was dealing with it like a trooper; I had yet to hear a single whine or complaint.

I didn't notice Nushi sneak up behind me, I was so busy watching my brother practice. I snorted quietly as David nearly threw himself to the ground with an overly enthusiastic low punch.

"Find something funny, Hiver-san?" Nushi said casually.

I bit back a yell and turned to face him. He was leaning against the fence, watching me watch David. His jacket fell open at the side, and I felt my cheeks flush with the effort to keep my treacherous gaze away from his chest. "Yes," I said, a little strained. I looked at a point a little to the right of Nushi's head. I gestured behind me without looking at my brother. "He's not doing so well."

Nushi raised both eyebrows at me. "And you could do better yourself?"

The implied doubt in his voice ruffled my feathers, and before I could do anything, I heard my mouth say, "Yes, I could!" without any regard to the consequences.

Nushi smiled, showing his teeth, and I became extremely worried. It was a predator's smile. He pushed off the wall and walked towards me with a single, fluid motion. "Oh, really?" He towered over me, and I had to crane my neck backward to look him in the face.

Too late now. "Of course," I bluffed. "I just didn't have time to teach David myself, though I know I'd do a better job than you are?"

"Oh, really?" Was all he said.

My anger grew bigger than my worry. "Yes, really!"

Nushi's smile, if it was possible, grew bigger. "Then prove it." Before I could protest, Nushi had placed both his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me backwards.

I stumbled into the side yard. David disappeared behind the corner of the house. I heard cars passing in the street, but it was my breath that I heard most prominently. I was panicking because I was screwed. What the hell had I been thinking, to antagonize the guy who could probably kick my ass seven ways from Sunday?! I turned to run, but I heard him chuckle.

"Ah ah ah, Hiver-san." I felt a tap on my back and yelped. I was gonna have a bruise in the morning. "Basic rule of fighting: never turn your back on the enemy."

I whirled around and glared at Nushi, my fists raised above my head like a boxer's. "You wouldn't dare fight a girl."

"Oh? Why not, when she dares to fight with me?" Nushi smirked and moved so quickly his hands blurred. One moment my hands were guarding my head, the next they had been twisted into a complicated hold in front of my chest. My own limbs were betraying me, binding me so tightly that I had no hope of escaping.

Nushi was standing extremely close to me. I felt my face heat up from his close proximity, though that was because he was extremely warm, not because I was embarrassed or flustered or anything. He was breathing more heavily now, I saw, and sweating. I could smell his scent – it wasn't anything I recognized, though it was far from unpleasant. It was like…like dirt. Wet earth, strangely mixed with human musk. I felt myself breathe even more deeply, trying to get more of the smell, and my body leaned towards his.

Nushi noticed and smirked. "Can I help you with something?" he said mock-politely, gripping my wrists even more tightly.

My sudden fascination with his smell evaporated. "Yes, actually, you can," I replied, and I lifted my knee in the clichéd—but totally effective—groin shot. "You can let go of me."

Nushi already had by this point. I smiled grimly and started to walk away, but I heard a somewhat delayed strangled squeak come from behind me. I turned to look at him, and saw that Nushi was crumpled on the ground, lying on his side and clutching himself. His face was even paler than usual. It was scrunched up in pain, and I felt some remorse for having hit him.

I sighed heavily and walked back to Nushi, kneeling beside him. "Hey, are you alright?"

Nushi opened his streaming eyes to look balefully at me. "I would have been better if you hadn't kneed me."

"Well, if you hadn't locked my hands up, I wouldn't have had to," I retorted.

"If you hadn't lied, I wouldn't have fought you."

I opened my mouth to argue, but realized I'd been neatly painted into a corner. I released my breath in a gusty sigh and smiled a little. "Touché."

Nushi stopped clutching himself and tried to lever himself off the ground. His arm gave out and he started to fall back to the earth. Before I quite realized what I was doing, I was grabbing his shoulder before he could hit the ground. Nushi turned his head to look at me, his eyes still swimming with pain-tears. He started to say something, but I cut him off.

"Sorry about lying," I said gruffly. I hauled him to his feet using my grip on his arm, ignoring his gasp. "Come on, we gotta get back to David." Nushi dragged his feet, making me walk for both him and me. I frowned as I struggled with both our weights.

"Quit being a baby, Joe! Just walk, it's not that – ah!" I'd hit a tree root and lost my balance completely. Before I could do anything to prevent it, we were falling to the ground again. My body acted instinctively: my last bit of momentum went to twisting my torso so that it was directly underneath his. I hit the ground with a dull thud, and his body landed on top of mine, completely knocking the air out of me.

I was stunned from the fall, completely unable to move, and I had no wind in my lungs to tell him to get the hell off me. That was why I was gasping for breath, but for some reason I couldn't get air in my lungs. My heart was pounding from the extra weight on my chest, and my skin and muscles were burning with the effort I was expending to keep him off the ground. I felt hot everywhere his body was in contact with mine. I suddenly realized that his jacket had flown open and that he was lying on me with his chest completely exposed and pressing up against mine. I looked up and saw him looking at me with the weirdest expression on his face. There was pain, though I assumed that was left over from my underhanded tactics, but surprise and wary pleasure and nervousness – _nervousness_? What the…! – were all on his face too, swirling into a complex storm of emotions that had me completely mesmerized.

A soft thump on the grass told me we weren't alone.

"Um, guys…?"

When I heard David's confused voice, it was the impetus I needed to finally force air into my lungs. I pushed him off of me, and he rolled to the side and leapt lightly to his feet, all the turbulent emotions gone.

I shot him a dirty look. "Obviously you're feeling better than you let me believe, then."

He smiled serenely. "I had to punish you for lying to me."

"Huh?" David looked from me to his teacher, looking extremely bewildered. His gaze finally settled on me. "What is he talking about, Val?"

"Nothing." I stopped glaring at him and grinned at David. "Nice work today, David."

He scowled, and I felt relieved that I'd gotten him distracted, though I wasn't entirely sure why I was so relieved. It made me anxious, so I pushed the thought away to deal with later and listened to David rail about how poorly he was doing and how he kept messing everything up. I couldn't really comfort him: he was right, and I wasn't going to lie (I'd seen how well lying worked minutes before) and tell him he was doing fantastically.

Joe laid a hand on David's shoulder, stopping the boy's self-depreciation. "You're doing well for a beginner. It takes time and practice."

David scuffed the ground with a bare foot. "But who will I practice with at home?"

"Oh, I think your sister will help out at home, won't you, Val-san?" Joe said with a laugh. He continued, ignoring my slight gasp at his audacity for using my first name without my permission, "I think you'll find her to be quite the handful. I know I did."

David looked at me admiringly. "Really? But she doesn't know anything."

"That can be fixed."

"If we can stop rearranging my life for three seconds…?" I interrupted. When no one protested, I went on: "Who said I wanted to learn karate?"

"Oh, but it's so much fun, Val!" David pleaded with me. "Come on!"

"Yeah, come on, Val-san," Joe said, mimicking David's inflection perfectly. It startled a giggle out of me, and a ghost of a real smile flickered across Joe's face. It smoothed over before I could comment on it. "I'd be fine with teaching you along with your brother, so he could have a partner to practice with."

I scowled and looked at my scuffed rubber shoes. Joe knew exactly how to get me to go along with something--appeal to my sense of older-sister-duty--and I'd only had maybe three civil conversations with the guy. "Whatever."

David whooped and raced out of the backyard. He turned back to wave, and Joe waved back. When David was out of sight around the corner of the house, I turned to Joe.

"I didn't give you permission to call me by my nickname," I commented.

He looked confused. "I didn't think you liked to be called Valkyrie; was I wrong?"

I winced and shook my head. My ponytail slapped my cheeks. "No, I prefer Val, but I didn't tell you to call me anything other than my last name."

Joe looked at me for a long time. I couldn't – or didn't want to – read his face, and I looked up at the oak tree right above us. It swayed slightly in the wind, tossing shadows across us. "I thought I'd been given permission when you used my name," he said finally.

I was so startled that I turned to him. "When did I use it?"

It was his turn to look away. Was it just me, or was he a little flustered? His cheeks were certainly rosier than they'd been all through David's workout. "…When you were helping me before."

"Oh." I felt myself blush from the breach of etiquette that had opened the door to his familiarity. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. It just kinda… slipped out, and…" I was at a loss for words. I began to bow to ask for his forgiveness, but I felt two strong fingers grab my chin and force my face upward.

"I don't mind," he said gently. He paused, then added, "If you don't mind, Val-san."

I jerked my head out of his hold so he wouldn't feel my trembling and (wrongly!) think it had something to do with him. "I don't mind," I said softly.

We stood underneath the branches of the tree. The wind whistled through my hair, and I leaned back a little bit, enjoying the warmth of the breeze. I smelt rain on the way.

"Touché," Joe said suddenly, and my eyes snapped back to his. "What does that mean? I haven't heard that word before."

"It's French," I explained. "It means…oh, I dunno. Something like stalemate, like 'You win; I give up'."

"Touché," he said again, as if tasting the word. "It means you admit defeat, then?"

I shrugged, suddenly eager to catch up to David. "I guess so." I turned and walked away from Joe, leaving him underneath the tree. I didn't look behind me.

When I walked into the kitchen, my brother was leaning against the counter, gulping a glass of ice water, still dressed in his sweaty gi. He set the glass down when he saw me close the screen door behind me.

He grinned wickedly. "So."

"So what?"

"No reason to go over, huh?"

"David!"

"_Whatsoever_, right?"

"David. Stop it."

He raised his hands in mock-surrender. "I'm just trying to understand, what's wrong with that?"

I just looked at him. He smiled wider, and I was strongly reminded of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. "Whatever you're thinking, I highly doubt it's true," I pointed out dryly.

"Maybe. Maybe not." He swaggered out of the kitchen, snagging his glass on the way out. He didn't see me edge towards the sink. "But _I_ think that what you've been saying and what you've been doing are two completely different –"

I flipped the faucet up and tightened my fist around the sprayer nozzle, sending a spray of icy cold water shooting towards my foolish little brother. He sputtered and dripped on the linoleum.

"What was that for?!"

"You stink. You need a shower. I was trying to help you out." I lifted the nozzle. "Do you need more help, or do you think you can take care of it without my interference?"

"Myself! I can do it myself!" he yelped, and I laughed as I heard him race up the steps to the bathroom. I grabbed up the glass he'd left behind and drank the dregs of the water. Who cared what my brother thought? It wasn't as if any of it was true. He hadn't been there for the whole time, to know how intensely _aggravating_ I found Joe. There was nothing going on.

At all.

Right?


	9. Chapter 8: Conscience

A/N: Yeah, just a reminder: _PG-13 rating. __For language_. So beware. Sorry for the delay; I'd had this typed up earlier but decided I didn't like it, so it got rewritten. Hope y'all like the rewrite!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Eight: Conscience**_

I'd been helping David with his karate practice for maybe two weeks before I returned to the band room for my lunch. I didn't make a production out of it; I just showed up at the beginning of the 30 minute period and grabbed the brown paper lunch I'd stashed in my instrument locker before homeroom that morning. I settled down into my normal seat in band class and used my music stand as a makeshift table.

Joe walked in and stopped short when he saw me munching on my sandwich. I glared at him, my cheeks stuffed with chicken salad, daring him to say something.

He didn't. He walked straight to the piano and started playing like he had that very first day. Mr. Christiansen didn't emerge from his perpetual phone conference in his office. Everything was exactly the way it had always been, with the addition of one pianist. It was as if I hadn't boycotted the band room for months. I couldn't decide whether I was grateful that no one was making a big deal about my return or if I was annoyed that apparently my snit wasn't noticed enough to merit remark when it was over.

Some days I'd rehearse pieces for orchestra and band, practicing the steps the marching band would use during the upcoming annual Veteran's Day parade until I thought I'd fall down from vertigo. Joe politely refrained from laughing at me as I high-stepped my way around the conductor's podium. Maybe it was the "laugh and die" I had scrawled across my forehead that warned him off of any sort of hilarity.

Some days I'd sit and pretend to read _Pride and Prejudice_ for English class when I was really listening to Joe play. He never seemed to play the same thing twice—I mean, he played the notes and dynamics and all for the music that we were given in class, but somehow he played a different song every time. He could turn a Sousa march into the most poignant ballad without changing the tempo or rhythms or accent markings. Despite my initial annoyance at his abilities, I had to give Joe credit: he was mad talented.

Sometimes he played music that the school didn't have. I knew we didn't have those songs because as the band librarian I'd catalogued and listened to the recording of every piece of sheet music Mr. Christiansen had.

When I heard him begin a song like that, I'd reach for my headphones. Something in the foreign melodies and harmonies made me feel…funny. Like I'd heard the song before, in a dream or something, and the harder I reached for the memory, the faster it slipped away from my tentative reach. Maybe it was because something inside me didn't really want to reach for the memory, and that was why I couldn't recognize the songs. Like I'd remember more than just a song if I tried too hard.

So I didn't try. I pushed the disconcerting thoughts aside and jammed out to Reliant K and Evanescence, tapping out the guitar riffs with my pencil until Joe stopped and stared pointedly at me. I'd smile and stop until Joe went back to playing, and then I'd ripple my fingers silently across the music stand just to bug him. He couldn't hear me, but he knew I was still tapping. Oh, that pissed him off so much. I loved it.

Maybe I shouldn't have pushed Joe so hard. He was a smart one. He didn't confront me about it in the band room and patiently put up with my intentionally annoying tendencies. Then, one morning, he struck back.

I'd been scribbling in the margins of my journal that homeroom period. My dream that night had lingered longer than usual, and for some reasons the expressions of some of the spirits in the bathhouse had captivated my thoughts. How chicken-looking spirits managed to look happy or sad or angry or impatient (or murderous) when I was slow bringing them their special bath tokens was a mystery, and I'd spent the subway ride trying to replicate the range of their emotions. I think it was all in their eyes—certainly nothing else was flexible to create the expressions.

There wasn't a cleared throat or a shadow falling across my pages to tell me he was there. This is gonna sound weird, but somehow I just knew that Joe was standing right in front of me. Or at the top right corner of my desk, to be exact. I don't know how I knew. I just…did. And _that_ freaked me out. Bad.

I slammed a hand over my sketches and glared at him. Joe looked down at me, smiling a little. No, excuse me, he was _smirking_ at me. Ass.

"Yes, _Nushi_?" I all but hissed at him.

He frowned slightly, annoyed. "I thought we'd discussed this, _Val_-_san_. You may call me Joe."

"Oh, may I?" I sneered. "Well, I'm not going to, you—" David's face flashed through my mind. I changed what I'd been about to say: "—you arrogant creep." Okay, it wasn't much better than "douchebag," but hey! At least it was PG rated for my absent brother.

"Arrogant?" Joe's voice came out strangled.

"Did I _stutter_?"

Joe clenched his fists and breathed through his nose. He sounded vaguely congested, I noticed, slightly taken aback. Since I was looking… Despite his enraged energy, Joe didn't seem to be his normal self. He seemed droopy, like one of Mom's houseplants when I forgot to water them in the summer. His nose was red and chaffed-looking, and he was even paler than normal, except for his fever-flushed cheeks.

I was so surprised at this turn of events, I was shocked into civility. "Hey, are you okay?"

"What do _you_ care?" Joe shot back.

I snickered. When he glared at me and opened his mouth (probably preparing to rake me over the coals for my lack of manners), I cut him off.

"Did you realize how American you sounded just then?" I snickered again.

He was not amused. I hurried to interrupt him for a second time. "Seriously, though, are you sick or what? For David's lessons and whatever, you know," I was quick to assure him. "I don't want him getting sick or something." As if I'd care whether Joe was sick or not! Perish the thought.

Joe quirked an eyebrow as if questioning my rationale, but his temper seemed to have cooled some. "I may have a cold, thank you for your concern." He turned his back for a moment and grabbed a set of clothes that were on the desk behind him. He spoke a little louder, and I wondered if his ears were clogged from his cold. "These are for you. For practice."

I took the pile of stiff fabric and found a gi like David's. "What the…? What am I going to do with _this_?"

"Practice," Joe said curtly.

"But these—" I began to protest, but was cut off when Joe suddenly whirled around and blew his brains out into a tissue that had magically appeared in his hand.

I continued when he turned back to face me, wiping his nose. "This isn't my size." I held up the pants and looked at them with a critical eye. "They're waaaay too long! Where did you get them, off a scarecrow?"

Joe didn't say anything for a minute. "Are you always so rude, Val-san?" he asked finally.

"What do you—" But it was Joe's turn to cut me off. He'd left me stammering in confusion and gone to sit in his own desk. I saw he had a box of school-issue tissues on the top of his neat pile of notebooks, and I felt a strange stirring of sympathy for my sick classmate. Wiping your nose with pinecones was probably easier on your face than those school tissues.

I sighed and plopped my head on my desk, ignoring Ms. Marks' twittering. Great. Just peachy. I _had_ to develop a conscience now, of all times!

Any sympathy I'd felt to Joe evaporated at the end of the period, though. As soon as the bell rung, I was bombarded by the entire female population of the classroom.

"What did Joe give you?" Coutney Trenton demanded, flipping her blonde ponytail behind her shoulders impatiently.

"Yeah, what?" sneered her crony—er, _best friend_—Mary Rogers.

I was totally unused to being the center of attention for anything. My mouth hung open in shock, and I was completely unable to respond. What the _hell_ was going on?!

The mob of hormonal, love-struck females took advantage of my silence and started screaming questions and demanding explanations for Joe's unprecedented behavior. Beneath Amy Quinn's elbow and Georgina LaFerme's shoulder, I could barely make out Joe standing well away from the chaos, clutching his books and clearly shaking with laughter. He must've seen my panicked and shocked face because he stopped laughing long enough to wink at me—he _winked_? What the _HELL_?!—before hurrying out of the room.

Like I said, any sympathy I had for his sorry ass dried up when I realized he'd staged the whole thing to embarrass me in the worst, most public possible way. I grabbed the gi that I'd laid on my stack of papers and textbooks and hurled it at his head.

"ASSHOLE!"

I saw Joe's stunned and hurt face long enough to feel guilty all over again, but then I was focused on surviving the catfight that sparked when the girls realized I'd just insulted and possibly injured the object of their misplaced affections. They came after me with a fury that I'd never suspected lay beneath their blonde exteriors. For the record, manicured nails at schools should be outlawed. They're _lethal_.

It took three teachers and the school's security guard to break up the brawl. I emerged relatively unscathed, save for a few scratches from Courtney Trenton's poodle-pink claws, and that did nothing to ease the guilt. In fact, seeing the damage I'd done using my minimal karate skills as the vice principal escorted me to his office only made me feel worse. It (indirectly) had been Joe's teaching that had allowed me to emerge the victor from this fight. Damn it.

At least, I'd won the battle, but I was the official loser of the war. Courtney and her gang of chirping monkeys put all the blame on me for starting it, despite at least ten witnesses. When they tried to call Joe down to determine if I'd really chucked my purse filled with bricks at his head (as Courtney had claimed), we found out that he'd left school early. Unable to verify Courtney's story but disliking my distinctly surly attitude, Vice Principal Majors gave me detention that day instead of three days out-of-school suspension.

It was late when I got home. David had my dinner all ready for me—I'd called ahead to tell him I'd be back late—and his anxious face left me feeling even more guilty.

"Damn my conscience," I muttered, grabbing the plate of fish sticks and squirting mustard onto the plate.

"What?" David offered me a glass of milk. "I didn't hear that."

I snatched the glass and stalked to the table. My messenger bag bookbag knocked into the table, and with a snarl I slammed my dinner down and flung the bag into a corner. "I didn't say anything, David. Leave me alone."

David saw my black expression and wisely shut up. He sat down across from me as I scarffed down my dinner like a wild thing. "In a hurry?" he asked eventually.

I swept my fish stick around the edge of the plate to gather up all the leftover mustard. "Yes."

He waited. "And you're going…?" he prompted when I didn't answer directly.

"None of your damn business," I said tersely. I put my dishes in the sink and started to run the water to wash them off.

"Oh." He paused for a second. "You know, Joe came home early today. I think he's sick or something."

"Who cares about Joe?!" I practically screamed. Thank God Mom and Dad weren't home again; I would've gotten killed. I lowered my voice. "And how do you know?"

David shrugged and looked smug. "That's none of your business."

I growled. I didn't like having my words tossed back in my face. "I'm off." I walked out the door, ignoring my brother as he clattered out the door.

"Wait for me!" he huffed.

I turned to look at him. He was struggling to walk and pull on his galoshes at the same time. "Nope." I walked down the path without him. I didn't want any witnesses at all, let alone my brother, to see what I was going to do.

I had to… I had to _apologize_ to Joe. I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat at the thought and stomped onto the steps of Mr. Smith's front porch. I banged on the door for at least half a minute before Mr. Smith came to the door.

"There's a doorbell," he remarked mildly.

I glared at him. "I need to see Joe."

Mr. Smith sighed and ran a long-fingered hand through his grey streaked hair. His brown eyes had rings around them, like he hadn't been sleeping. "Right now? I just got him to sleep—he's been coughing all day."

T_hanks, Mr. Smith. Just drive that guilt in a little deeper, why don't you? _"I know."

Mr. Smith waited, but I crossed my arms across my chest. I wasn't budging until I saw Joe, said I was sorry, and got my damn conscience off my back!

He sighed again and stepped back. "Come in, then."

I walked into the house. It was dark; Mr. Smith hadn't turned on any lights in the hallway, and there weren't any windows in this part of the house. There was a door to every room off this hallway, making me feel slightly claustrophobic. Mr. Smith motioned to the door to the right.

"That's Joe's room. Go in, I guess. But be quiet. He's not doing so well."

I nodded once and gently eased the door open. The hinges creaked a little, but I tiptoed in as quietly as I knew how.

Joe's room was a generic guest room: off-white walls, a bed with a mint-green comforter, pastel prints that belonged more in my grandmother's bathroom than in a bachelor's house. There were one or two personal touches in the room. Clothes were slung all around the room, as if Joe didn't know what a hamper was. I smirked when I saw that. Typical teenage guy. There was a small statue of a mouse on top of the dresser. A stick of half-burnt incense was stuck in the statue's back. Propped against the wall by the mouse was a watercolor portrait of a young girl. There was something about the picture that…I'd say it triggered alarm bells in my mind, but it was more like someone was ringing a gong deep underwater, so muffled and far-away was the sense of recognition. I wanted to look longer at the picture, but a hacking cough drew my attention away from the dresser to the lump beneath the comforter.

The lump shook with the force of the coughing. The blanket slid away to reveal Joe, and I couldn't help my gasp when I saw him.

Joe looked terrible. His eyes were running, and his nose looked like he'd stuck it in a tomato. His black hair was sticking up on one side from when he was lying down, and the light in his eyes was dulled by his misery. He looked so utterly sick that I felt the mothering instincts that I'd thought only appeared around David begin to surface. I wanted to give him hot soup and supply him with tissues and tell him everything was okay. I shook my head quickly, trying to fling the weird thoughts away. What was happening to me? First a conscience, now this! What was the world coming to?

He sniffled and glanced up. He froze when he saw me standing in his doorway. I think he stopped breathing.

I suddenly felt very, very awkward. What had I been thinking, to come here? This was no place for me, no matter how much I wanted to apologize and help him get better. I was the _last_ person he'd want to see after this morning's little fiasco.

I was about to make a quick exit when he croaked, "Val-san? What are you doing here?"

"Um…" I smiled weakly. "I was actually asking myself the same thing."

He laughed at my awkwardness—or at least, he tried to laugh. He started hacking and coughing so hard the bed shook with the force of it. Before I quite realized what was happening, I was sitting on the edge of his bed, my hands hovering over the curve of his back. I wanted to help, but I wasn't sure that I wouldn't hurt him.

My indecision cost me. He straightened up and slid right into my hands. My palms and cheeks burned with embarrassment when I touched him, and I quickly pulled back. "Sorry!"

Joe looked like he wanted to laugh again but held it back. "Can I help you?"

I rolled my eyes. Always polite, damn him. And I never was. My conscience went for a kidney shot just then. "Yeah, actually." I took a deep breath.

"I…I owe you an apology, Joe." I looked down and picked at the comforter. "I'm sorry about this morning. I was…was not kind to you. You didn't deserve to have me blow up at you. So, um, sorry." I stopped talking.

Joe was quiet for a little while. He turned to blow his nose. "Are we ever going to have a conversation that doesn't end with you apologizing?" he asked thickly. He sniffed.

I grinned a little. "Sure. We've had ones where it ends with _you_ apologizing."

That made Joe laugh again, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit. I watched helplessly. "Sorry! I didn't mean for that to happen!"

He waved my apologies off. "Don't worry," he groaned through the tissue. "Not your fault."

We sat together quietly, and I was vividly reminded of the moment a few weeks ago underneath the oak tree in his backyard. I looked away from him quickly, flustered. My gaze fell on the portrait again. Joe followed my gaze.

"Do you like it?" he asked me quietly.

"Yeah. It's really well done. Who is it?"

He didn't answer me at first. "A very dear friend of mine," he said finally.

"Oh." When he didn't continue, I said, "And she would be…?"

Joe half-smiled. Instead of answering my question, he said, "It was painted by another friend of mine. She's quite the artist, don't you think? Sometimes, I wonder what she must've done before I met her."

"Where'd you meet her? The person who's in the picture?" I didn't mean to grill him like that, but I couldn't help feeling that the picture was important.

"The same place I met the artist." He hesitated. "She died a few years ago."

I felt vaguely sad, like it had been my acquaintance, not his, that had passed away. "I'm sorry. What was her name?"

"…Chihiro."

"Chihiro." I rolled the name on my tongue. Despite its obviously Japanese origins, I found myself asking, "Did she live here?"

"No. Why?"

"No reason." I shrugged, and the movement made the bed bounce. "I just…I dunno." I shook my head. "Just forget it. Sorry to pry."

"Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago," he said matter-of-factly. He looked at the picture for a moment longer, and I watched as the matter-of-fact façade slip for a second and wistful longing fill his eyes. He was looking right passed my shoulders, almost into my face, almost as if he was looking at me and not at the picture.

The idea that it looked like he was looking at me with such deep emotions made my stomach fill with butterflies.

Or maybe whatever he had was catching.

I sprang off the bed. The mattress groaned, and Joe looked at me, startled. "Is something wrong?"

"No." But I said it too quickly, and Joe narrowed his eyes with suspicion.

"Val-san."

"Joe-san," I mocked him lightly, and smiled to distract him from his suspicion and to distract _me_ from the fluttering feeling that had migrated to my throat.

It didn't quite work, but Joe stopped his intense gaze when he had to cough again. "You're not going to school tomorrow," I stated when he was done.

"No shit, Sherlock," he said in perfect American inflection. I beamed proudly.

"Perfect American!" Joe looked away from me, but I thought I saw him smile before I couldn't see his face anymore.

"Take the gi with you before you go," he said in a clear dismissal, still not looking at me.

"Where is it?"

"In my school bag."

I grabbed the emerald backpack and rummaged through his perfectly organized notebooks. Amazing, how neat his schoolwork was, but his room was a pig sty. I pulled the clothes from beneath the stack of books with a grunt. Joe winced as the sound of tearing paper came with the clothes, but I ignored him.

"Got 'em. Thanks, Joe."

He turned to look at me again and smiled the most serene smile I'd seen from him all afternoon. "It's my pleasure, Val-san." He tried to bow, but it didn't work too well in bed.

I chuckled. "Save the bowing for when you're better. And you're to get better soon with the traditional American remedy of chicken noodle soup."

"Chicken noodle soup?"

Joe's confused expression kept me laughing all the way home.

Where the laughter triggered a sudden coughing attack.

Damn it, Nushi. Damn it.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Next chapter is journal-dream centric. Some stuff begins to get clearer, all that lovely exposition jazz. 'Til next time!**


	10. Chapter 9: Changes

A/N: Finally! I've been looking forward to this chapter. The section all in _italics_ is a dream sequence. It's based on an early part of the movie. Dialogue is as close to the English version as I could keep it, though I mostly made up the actions of the characters and I played with the order of events slightly. You'll know where I start changing things up a bit. :D It's a little short, but it's a good one, I think. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Nine: Changes**_

I made it to my bedroom before it really got bad. I coughed for the entire afternoon, great honking coughs that left me frantic for oxygen. When my lungs didn't have any air left to expel, I would dry heave. David was so worried that he actually called Mom and Dad home early. I didn't have enough air to tell him not to.

Mom came home and came straight upstairs. She strode through the door and felt my forehead. Her wedding ring was like a band of ice.

"You're burning up!" she said with surprise. I could only roll my eyes and shiver harder under my comforter. Mom sat down, making the mattress groan. "Where's your brother?"

"Right here," David piped up from the window. He'd been fiddling with my telescope and waiting for me to need something.

"Get Val some aspirin," Mom ordered, and David dashed out of the room. "And don't run in the house! Especially with your socks on!"

I tried to smile, but started coughing instead. Mom watched me, her brow creased with concern. "You were fine this morning. What happened?"

"Visited…a friend!" I gasped when I was done coughing. "He's…sick… too!" And I was back to coughing.

Mom shook her head. "I don't know if I should be mad for getting yourself sick or if I should be happy you've stopped the anti-social-teen-act."

"I was never anti-social! I just like my privacy!" I said—or at least, I tried to say. All that came out was another explosion of honking.

Mom rose from the bed and grabbed another box of tissues—the lotion kind, I was grateful to see—from my dresser and tossed them on the comforter in front of me. "Keep it covered, will you? The rest of us don't need this. It looks nasty."

I grimaced and gave her a thumbs up while I coughed some more.

* * *

Dad couldn't get away early, so it was Mom and David who tended to me while I laid in bed, alternately wishing I could die and being grateful that I was this sick at home and not halfway across the world. I managed to rasp out some instructions to David between fits, and he disappeared for half an hour to make and deliver some Campbell's soup to Mr. Smith's house. I fervently hoped it was edible—my brother was not the best cook—but it was the best I could do for Joe, seeing as I was in absolutely no condition to make it myself.

Mom forced some saltines and water into my stomach when she could, along with two aspirin. I flat refused to take NyQuil.

"I'll fall asleep," I rasped quickly. I had discovered that the faster and softer I spoke, the more I could say before my lungs tried to escape my chest again.

"That's the point," Mom said, exasperated with my recalcitrance. She continued to hold out the pills on her palm. The turquoise liquid inside them shimmered in the soft light from the lamp on my nightstand.

I shook my head. The motion felt funny with my ears stuffed up like they were. "I don't want to dream. Not yet." I didn't see what effect my words had on her—I started coughing too hard to look up. When I did, both the pills and Mom were gone.

Dad got home a little after eight. He, too, trooped up the stairs and checked on me. He apologized for being late, and I restrained the automatic answer—"Work more important than your only daughter, Dad?"—because it would serve neither of us for me to be sarcastic tonight. Instead, I nodded my acceptance and quietly asked if David was around.

Dad thought about it. "Yeah, I remember I saw him downstairs fooling with the hot water heater in the kitchen. Do you want him up here?"

I nodded again. I was coughing too hard to answer.

Dad started edging towards the door. He was always uncomfortable around the sick. "I'll, ah—I'll go get him."

"Thanks," I whispered, but he was already out of the room. I could hear him calling for David as he trotted down the stairs. The door to his office shut. I wouldn't be seeing him again tonight.

I stared at the stars on my ceiling, tracing the constellations with my eyes. I had just moved on to Orion when David clattered into my room with a breakfast tray. A mug of hot chocolate rattled on a saucer, spilling over the rim and dripping down the side. He'd found a rose from somewhere and put it in a vase. I smiled when I saw the effort he'd gone to to make my sick tray cheery. It was just like him.

"Thanks, little br—_HONK_!" My chest chose that moment to continue its battle to breathe. David set the tray on the dresser and sat next to me, keeping a small and cool hand on the back of my neck while I shook and trembled with the force of my coughing. I looked through the sweaty hair that had fallen in front of my face at my brother. He was frowning, very _un_like him.

"Joe sounded like that when I saw him," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "You saw him? He was in bed when I went ov—!"

He waited until I was done to answer. "Yeah, he answered the door."

"WHAT!" My scream brought on the worst attack yet. I could feel the bed bouncing beneath me. "What the hell is he doing out of bed!"

David said nothing, obviously too terrified to say anything to trigger another fit. His eyes got very wide, though, like a terrified horse's. I decided not to make him any more frightened of my condition than he already was.

But I couldn't quite let our neighbor's neglect go without one final comment. "Thank God Mr. Smith has no children," I muttered into my tissue. "He'd have been arrested for child abuse years ago."

David giggled, his fear for me subsiding. If I was well enough to joke, I wasn't going to die any time soon.

"So what's on the tray?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Oh!" David jumped up and ran to get the tray. He carefully walked over—still managing to spill—and set it down next to him on the bed. "Hot chocolate. The good stuff."

I groaned and coughed. "Couldn't you have waited to make the good stuff until I could actually taste it?"

David laughed and looked away. "Eh, turns out that's the only stuff in the kitchen." He held the mug between his palms, letting the mug warm his hands, and then gave it to me. "Here. Drink up."

I clutched the mug and drank it quickly before I could cough again, but the coughing was inevitable. I smiled when it was over, and David grinned. "You're welcome," he said in response to my silent thanks.

I motioned to the vase on the tray as I blew my nose. The rose was beautiful, so deep a red that it was nearly black. It was in full bloom, so I knew that I would only have a few days to enjoy it. Hopefully it would last long enough that I'd be able to smell it when I was feeling better.

"Oh, yeah, the rose! Joe told me to take it from the garden out back." David smirked and raised his brows. "Anything I should know about?"

My death glare was all the answer I could give at that moment, but it was apparently clear enough. He raised his hands defensively. "Hey, just asking! I mean, it was odd…" he trailed off and shook his head. "_I_ noticed how much you were admiring them last lesson, but I didn't think Joe had."

I devoutly hoped the flush I could feel blooming on my cheeks could be mistaken for my fever. "He just noticed because I wasn't blocking your punches 'cause I was looking at them," I muttered. "Doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, I dunno, big sis, I think it means something. He was coughing a ton, and he still made sure to ask how you were doing and stayed out long enough to watch me cut the flower. I think that means a _lot_ of somethings, actually. I think Mom and Dad would think so, too. Should I ask them?"

"_Ask and you die_."

"Touchy! Too touchy, I think." David continued talking but I couldn't hear him that well. My eyelids drooped like they had weights on them. The last thing I heard—or thought I heard—was David's soft whisper, "…it's working. 'Night, Val."

The last thing I saw was the rose. A dark petal fell from its listless head, and I fell with it into slumber.

* * *

"_You have to hold your breath while we cross the bridge," Haku whispered softly into my ear. I shivered, but whether it was because he was so close or because I was so scared, I couldn't tell. The spirits walked—or rather glided—past the little wooden gate where we stood as if Haku and I were invisible. I could hear the groveling voices of the frogs on the other side of the bridge and whimpered. My real-self was aware enough to remind me of all the things those frogs could do to me if they caught me._

"_Even the tiniest breath will break the spell, and then everyone will see you," he continued. He opened the gate and I quickly jogged up the remaining steps to join him. He didn't look at me, but he let me clutch his arm tightly. I felt the tendons in his arm stand out as he clenched his fist with the effort of his spell. I suddenly realized why he refused to look at me—he'd give me away if he did._

_We walked with the other spirits, Haku always careful to give me enough room so that I wouldn't bump into anyone or any_thing_. Sometimes a spirit would leave the crowd to enter one of the shops that lined the streets, Japanese calligraphy declaring them to be restaurants and souvenir shops. Why in the world spirits would want souvenirs, I couldn't guess, but that wasn't my concern._

_A spirit wandered a little too close to my side, and I pressed closer to Haku. "I'm scared," I whimpered, and my voice sounded as small as a frightened child's._

_He didn't stop walking, but his free arm came up and—so swiftly I almost didn't catch it—brushed my left cheek. His hand didn't pause, but moved up to tuck a loose hair behind his ear, still maintaining the illusion that he was alone. I stared at him, shocked. He'd never touched me so…intimately before._

But what's so intimate about a reassuring touch!_ my real self screamed in my head. _You said you were scared! He's just trying to make sure you don't go bolting off and ruining everything! He'll probably get fired for letting you in if he's found out, so of course he's calming you down.

_But those thoughts didn't stop my stomach from feeling like Haku had released a thousand little birds into my stomach with that simple touch._

_Haku didn't give me any more time to think about it because he whispered hurriedly (as if he was trying to cover up his sudden lapse in decorum), "Now just stay calm."_

_And we were at the edge of the bridge. Haku nodded curtly to the greeters. "I'm back from my mission."_

_I wondered briefly what he could be talking about as the head frog nodded. "Ah, welcome! Welcome back, Master Haku!"_

"_Master?" I murmured, and I snickered a little, my fear forgotten by the frog's whiney sucking-up._

_He ignored me. "Now take a deep breath," he instructed. "Hold it."_

_I was still in a somewhat playful mood, despite Haku's insistence on seriousness. I literally held my breath, dramatically plugging my nose with my whole fist and scrunched my face up with the effort of keeping it there. I glanced up at Haku. It may have been my imagination, but I could've sworn he was smiling slightly._

_The welcome chorus grew louder as we crossed the bridge, and so did my labored heart beats. Whether the spell was eating up more oxygen than I usually needed or if I was just being a baby, I was running out of air, and quickly. I made a muffled noise of distress._

"_Hang on. Almost there," he reassured me._

_I was seeing little black dots around the edges of my vision when a little frog wearing a blue robe yelled, "Master Haku!" He jumped up at the edge of the bridge and squawked, "Where've you been?"_

_I wasn't expecting him to jump so high! I gasped in surprise, and realized my mistake as soon as I felt blessed air flow into my lungs. I quickly gulped in my breath and held my mouth closed again, but it was too late._

"_Wha…? A human!" The frog jumped up again and wrapped his tongue around my neck in a hot, slimy, tight embrace._

"_No!" Haku dug the nails of his right hand into the frog's tongue, his left fist clenching tighter than ever. I don't know if the frog even felt it, for all the good it did. I hadn't taken much air in with my last breath, and I was quickly losing the fight to stay conscious as the tongue tightened and choked._

_I saw Haku's face twist in anguish and horror as he saw that it was no use. I could've told him that it was no good to try to free me. I had known something would go wrong, as usual. His eyes were black in the low light, and I could see myself reflected in them perfectly. Then I felt my neck snap with the pressure of the frog's tongue, and everything went black._

* * *

My eyes snapped open and I gasped for air, my fingers feeling for the bone splinters that I was sure had gone through the skin. My fingers hit flesh instead, and I screamed, smacking whoever it was and forcing them back. My scream turned into a cough, and I coughed and hacked and spat for what seemed like ages.

David stared at me from the foot of the bed. By the moonlight through the window, I could see his wide, frightened eyes and my palm print fading on his cheek.

"Oh, shit." I breathed in and out, slowly, trying to calm myself. "What are you doing here, David?"

"You're sick," he said defensively. "And I… I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened."

"Nothing worse than usual. But why the worry tonight?"

"No real reason." David got up to leave. "G'night."

I watched him walk to the door. He paused, and turned back to me. I couldn't see his expression: he'd walked out of the moonlight. "Val?"

"Yeah?"

"Fight it."

I stared at him, confused. "Fight what?"

He shrugged self-consciously. "That's what you screamed right before you woke up. 'Fight it'."

"Oh. Thanks." I looked at the comforter and didn't look up again until I heard the door close behind him. My eyes were drawn to the rose David had moved to the window sill. It looked like a black shadow framed in the glass pane. Two smaller puddles of black pooled beneath the vase, petals that had fallen since I'd been asleep.

'Fight it.' Those had been Haku's final anguished scream before I'd woken. Why had he said that? Such a passionate plea was wholey out of character for him.And why had _I_ yelled it here?

But more disturbing was what I remembered seeing in Haku's eyes. I hadn't seen myself, with newly-dyed purple highlights and dark bags under my eyes. I'd seen a young girl with wide, doe-brown eyes. Her hair was brown like mine, but shorter, and it framed a face still plump with baby fat. The reflection, while not mine, seemed familiar, and I wondered where I'd seen it. Something told me it was important.

Suddenly, I remembered, and I felt the blood drain from my face with my discovery. A panicked scream built itself up in my throat, ripping and tearing at the raw flesh to escape, but with the willpower built up over the last seven years of nightmares I fought it back. The panic remained, forcing my mind to relive that moment in my dream over and over until I thought it would be branded on the backs of my eyelids for the rest of my life.

For it _hadn't_ been my face that had been reflected in Haku's eyes. In my dream, it was Chihiro's face I'd been wearing.


	11. Chapter 10: Rendezvous

A/N: Hope this clears up your questions, Voughn! And not all psychologists are like this, of course. My neighbor is actually a very nice one. :)

My longest chapter yet! I hope y'all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Ten: Rendezvous**_

"So your young man—"

"He's _not_ my young man," I interrupted testily. "It's just Haku."

"Oh, well, right," Mr. Greene floundered, looking abashed. I sighed and rolled over on my side, trying to get comfortable. Vinyl lounges at the psychiatrist's office are no where near as snuggly as they look in the movies.

At least Mr. Greene's lounge was by the window. The sun was setting, and I watched as it cast a wall of spiky light behind a small wall of clouds. I couldn't see any of the skyscrapers that I knew were around somewhere—Mr. Greene's office was at the very edge of the downtown professional area of town and his office was facing the residential area, not the city. The houses looked golden-red, as if they were on fire. I almost wished they _were_ on fire, so I'd have an excuse to cut the session short. I glanced at my watch impatiently. I had another ten minutes. Dammit.

"So this Haku person… He was trying to save you?"

I rolled back to face him. He wasn't all that bad looking—his beer belly was only puffy, not drooping over his belt like most of my other psychologists, and his glasses gave his face some badly-needed maturity. His eyes were watery, though, and I could see his hairline retreating already, though he couldn't be more than maybe thirty.

"Yes."

"But, ah…" Mr. Greene rifled through the pages of my journal. "Here, and here," he said at last, pointing to my scrawling handwriting. I didn't even try to read it. "Apparently Haku has tried to save you a number of times."

I rolled my eyes. "Your point?"

"Why was his trying to save you from the frog so strange?" he asked patiently.

I scowled and sat up, leaning my elbow on the lounge armrest and ignoring the ominous creaking. "It was…well, it just was!" I looked away, cursing my cheeks as I felt myself turn red. Mr. Greene waited for me to elaborate. I scowled and turned to face him again. "I guess it was because he was never so…physical about the rescues before. You know? Like…" I tapped my chin with a finger, forgetting my irritation as I searched for the words. "Like he'd put in a good word or two, guide me, but he'd let me make all the decisions for myself. Like, if it didn't require any effort on his part, he'd help me, but if I screwed up and got myself killed again, he didn't worry about it."

Mr. Greene didn't say anything for a little while. He merely turned back to that night's entry and re-read it. I watched his lips form the words on the page. While I could only make out a few of them, I groaned in my head when I realized which part he was reading: _"…and the look in his eyes was like Joe's had been this morning: furious and angry and—"_ Mr. Greene frowned and tried to mouth out the word, and I thanked my lucky stars that I had come to my senses enough while writing to very firmly scribble out that last word.

But, of course, my luck wasn't all that great. "Who is Joe, Valkyrie?" Mr. Greene asked lightly, gesturing at the page.

I silently groaned again. Figures Mr. Green would ask about him. 'Til now, I'd managed to keep Joe out of the conversations. Surprisingly, it'd been rather difficult, as I'd felt this giant urge to vent all my frustration (…and confusion…) with the whole Joe-situation. It'd been two days since I'd come down with the 24 hour bug, and I'd been on the mend by the next morning. Unfortunately, the next morning'd been a Saturday. I'd had a perfectly reasonable excuse to skip school for once, but there'd been no school to skip.

It was Monday now, and Joe hadn't been back in school today. I was a little worried, but I was sure he'd be fine. I'd done all I could and I had no reason to fret at all. Wasn't my place to be clucking over him like some mama hen. I couldn't help but be anxious for him, though. After all, it was Mr. Smith who was looking after him. Maybe I'd better check up on him after this stupid appointment…

"—Valkyrie?"

I snapped back to the present. "Sorry. What?"

"You were going to tell me about, ah, Joe."

"Was I?" I asked with a smirk. Mr. Greene's frown deepened.

"Yes, you were," he said sternly.

I sighed and moved my other elbow to the armrest so I could prop my head on both my palms. "He's a kid at school."

"Interesting…" He flipped through my journal yet again. "I don't recall a name that _wasn't_ in your dreams being anywhere else in this journal."

"Yeah, well, no one is all that interesting at school," I snapped.

Mr. Greene smiled a tad smugly. Strangely, it reminded me of David. "But—what was it? Joe?—is interesting enough to merit mention here."

"I'm not really thinking when I write in there," I protested. "It's mostly reflex; I didn't _mean_ to write about him."

"But you did," Mr. Greene pointed out. "The fact that you didn't mean to says that you're thinking about him a lot, even if it's just in your subconscious." He looked at me with a superior, I-know-something-you-don't-know-and-or-won't-admit look on his face. "Is there something you want to talk about, Valkyrie?"

I groaned out loud this time. Psychologists were glorified, overpaid gossips. "No."

"Are you _sure_?" he pressed.

My temper flared and I stood up. Mr. Greene blinked in surprise. "If I wanted to be interrogated about my social life, Mr. Greene, I would let my brother do it!" I hissed. I held out my hand for my journal, somehow preventing myself from just ripping it out of his hands so it would be safe again. Oh, how I _hated_ to let other people have it! I imagined that I could see the sweaty palm marks on the beautiful red leather cover.

Mr. Greene weighed the journal in his palm, as if wondering if he should really give it back. He glanced at me and must've seen something in my face that threatened violence if he kept it much longer because he sighed a little and gave it back. "Until next week, then."

I nodded brusquely. "Next week." I left without saying goodbye, but who cared? I (or rather, my parents) was paying him to cure me, not to teach me etiquette.

The receptionist looked up from her Vogue magazine when I walked into the office, but when she saw me she turned back to her reading. I hoped there was an article in there called "How to Get a Life." If anyone needed help with that, it was this pathetic thirty-year-old woman who dyed her hair until it looked like crispy yellow straw and wore shirts that would be too small for a girl over twenty years her junior.

I banged out of the office and into the stairwell, trying to cram my journal into my bulging backpack and walk down the stairs at the same time. I wasn't looking where I was going—never a good idea when walking down stairs—so when I took another step down, I felt myself slam into someone else. I gasped in shock and tried to pull back, but my momentum had already taken over any sort of control I had over my body. All my attempts to stop the inevitable did was swing my legs out from underneath me so that I lost all traction with the concrete. We fell down the last little bit of the flight—thank God I'd only been a little bit away from the ground floor—and landed in a heap of limbs and hair.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" I twittered. I scrambled off of the groaning guy and offered him a hand. "Can I help you…" My voice died away as a pair of emerald—and very amused—eyes stared at me.

"Why do we always have these conversations, Val-san?" Joe asked conversationally as he grabbed my hand. I automatically pulled, and Joe levered himself up from the floor, jumping a little to catch his balance.

"What conversations?" I asked, hastily stepping away from him. He'd come up really close, close enough that I had to tilt my head uncomfortably far to look at him properly. I was moving so that I could be comfortable. Really. I was.

Joe frowned a little when I moved. "The ones which end with you apologizing to me." He chuckled, his good humor restored, and stepped closer.

I chuckled with him even as I moved back. "But I _started_ this conversation with an apology," I pointed out.

Joe sighed and stepped closer, shaking his head with mock sadness. "Ah, Val-san, why must you always get the last word?"

My back hit a wall. Dammit! I'd let him back me into a corner. I felt an irrational panic bloom within my chest and Joe must've seen it because he smirked and came even closer.

"It's one of my charms," I breathed. I couldn't seem to get any air into my lungs. It felt like I was drowning.

Joe chuckled again and leaned back. I took a deep breath that was almost a gasp, desperate for oxygen. Joe looked at me and grinned. Evil amusement made his dark eyes glitter in the dim light.

"Are you alright, Val-san?" he asked solicitously, his grin widening into a broad smile. His teeth flashed.

I felt my temper rise—he was obviously teasing me—but I got a hold of it before it could take over. He was intentionally baiting me, and I would not respond!

"I'm fine," I answered breezily, and brushed past him to the door, my heart barely speeding up as my bare shoulder caught the edge of his dark blue t-shirt.

"Wait for me!" Joe yelled, and I held the door open for him as he jogged past me to the sidewalk.

We fell into step together, side by side, but never touching. I was grateful for that—the evening was humid, a sign of a hot summer to come, and my skin was sticky and sweaty. Joe, of course, looked cool as ever. He wasn't even sweating. His hair was still loose, I saw. It was around his shoulders, swinging freely. I thought I could see dark green highlights when a panel of hair caught the fading sunlight. The ends were all different lengths, as if it'd been layered. I frowned.

Joe caught me staring while we waited for the crossing light to turn green. "Nani?"

"English, please," I said absently. Joe scowled. I ignored him and clarified, "It's your hair."

Joe pursed his lips and grabbed a fistful of hair, peering at it intently. "What's wrong with my hair?"

I laughed at his expression. He looked so worried! Even more so after I laughed, actually. "What?!" he practically squawked, which didn't help my composure at all.

I eventually calmed enough to squeak, "Jeez, Joe, you're so vain!"

Joe smiled a little, almost despite himself, and dropped his hair. He was quiet for a few seconds. "What is 'vain'?"

"Vain is…" I looked for the easiest way to explain it to a non-native English speaker. "Self-conscious." He still looked confused. "Um… you're really worried about how you look. Gouman."

Joe's eyes grew wide when he heard me. I squeaked and clasped a hand over my mouth. "I didn't mean to say that," I said through my fingers.

"Obviously," Joe said dryly. "And I am not gouman," he added.

"I must've been thinking 'conceited' in my head," I said, my hand still muffling my mouth. "It doesn't have quite the same connotations in English."

"Actually," Joe said conversationally while he started across the street and I trailed behind him like some stupid lost puppy, "Gouman means..." He jumped onto the sidewalk while he thought. "It means 'self-respect'...or 'pride in one's appearance'." He smiled condescendingly down at me. "Not quite so negative, I think."

I huffed and pinched his arm in irritation. He yelped and rubbed his arm. "What was that for?"

"You're being a prick," I ground out.

Joe grinned. "Ah, but you learned something, did you not? So maybe being a, ah, 'prick' was worth it, _ne_?"

"English, dammit, Joe!" I yelled, exasperated by his annoyingly happy-go-lucky attitude and my own ignorance.

"If you don't want _me_ to speak in Japanese, then _you_ can't speak in Japanese either."

"I can't help it!" I snapped. "It just..." I shut up.

Joe looked at me curiously. "Na-" He saw my look and quickly amended, "What?"

"Doesn't matter." He looked about to interrupt me again for clarification, but I suddenly remembered what word I was looking for. "Nalcist! _That's_ what I meant to say."

Finally Joe understood me. He looked mildly insulted. "I am _not_ obsessed with my appearance!"

"You _are_ obsessed, Joe," I laughed. "And--" I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth to prevent myself from saying something stupid.

Joe looked at me again, laughter dancing in his emerald eyes. "'And' what?"

I shook my head furiously, my ponytail slapping my cheeks. "Nothing. No. I'm not saying it."

"Why not?"

"It'll start a fight."

"That never stopped you before," he pointed out, and he laughed again. I watched him as he laughed. I'd never seen him smile so much before—he seemed lighter when he did, younger, somehow. Less intimidating.

"Tell me?" he asked, trying to make puppy-dog eyes at me and just managing to look stupid.

"Stop it!" I chuckled. I pushed on his arm jokingly, and I realized that I hadn't taken my hand off of his arm since the corner. His skin was smooth and very warm against my palm. I could feel my hand beginning to sweat—it was the humidity!—so I started to remove my hand so that I wouldn't make him uncomfortable. Joe felt that and moved his free hand to cover my hand, trapping my hand to his forearm. His palm was lined and rough, no where near as smooth as his arm. It was nice…

Too nice! What was I doing?! I wrenched my hand away and clutched my bag over my opposite shoulder. That had been too close! Thank God I'd come to my senses before someone had come along and seen us. With the sunset and the pretty trees planted in the sidewalk, someone might've thought we were a couple or something stupid like that. Nothing could be further than the truth!

Joe took my reaction in stride. He merely smiled and bumped my shoulder with his, friendly-like. "Come on, Val-san, tell me!"

I mock-scowled at him. "Fine, you asked for it! I was going to say 'And you're arrogant, too'." I thought about what I said for a moment. "Which would mean _goumen_ might still apply to you. In a very small way."

Joe didn't seem to have heard my justification for _goumen_. "Me? Arrogant?" He was surprised, to say the least.

"Yes, you! When someone says something that you don't like or when they're not doing what you want them to do, you get all high and mighty!"

"Oh." Joe didn't get angry at my assessment. Rather, he was thoughtful when he commented, "No one else has said anything."

I laughed. I think his mood was infectious. "That's 'cause they're all too terrified of you to say so!"

"Or maybe I'm only that way around you," Joe countered.

I flushed and quickly looked at the trees in the sidewalk. "I doubt that, Nushi."

"Hey!" Joe protested. He strode forward and stopped in front of me.

I scowled. "If you're going to walk in front, fine, but keep going so you don't block traffic!"

He ignored me and put his hands on my shoulders. He stared down at me, and I saw that he wasn't joking around anymore. "Don't call me Nushi anymore."

I laughed a little, trying to lighten the suddenly dark mood. He growled and shook me so hard my teeth rattled. "I'm serious, Val-san! I don't want you calling me that!"

I grew serious as well. "But why not, Joe? Nushi's your name, too."

He made a face and said something too softly for me to hear. Before I could ask for him to speak up, he added in a louder voice, "…and I'd just prefer you to call me by my name, that's all."

"J-o-e." I smiled. "Better?"

He smiled, too. "Better," he allowed. "But not the best."

We started walking again. "But what could be better than your first name, though?" I wondered out loud. "Joseph?" I scrunched up my nose in distaste. "That's not better, I don't care what you think."

Joe chuckled. "I'll tell you sometime."

"Promise?" I sounded like a whiney kid, but it was out before I could stop it.

"I promise, Val-san."

We walked a little farther. We were getting closer to the residential side of the city, so traffic wasn't so bad and we could just run across the crosswalks without waiting for the light to say we could go. The streetlamps flickered on while we walked on, and I admired the effect of the soft yellow light on the light green spring leaves of the ornamental trees.

"So what were we talking about at the beginning, anyway?" Joe asked eventually.

"Um…" I wracked my brain. "Oh! You were wondering what was wrong with your hair."

Nushi frowned, remembering. "Yes."

"And I was going to say," I continued, "that I liked your highlights."

"Highlights?" Joe stopped walking. I'd taken a few steps on before I realized he wasn't beside me. I turned and looked at him.

It was difficult to see his eyes clearly; perhaps that was what gave me the courage to look at him like I did. In this darkest part of twilight—it was too light out to really call it night, but it certainly wasn't day anymore—he looked like he was entirely black and white. Simple at first, like I'd sketched him with a pencil on a piece of computer paper; but then I saw so many shades of grey dancing on his skin from the leaves and his hair moving in the slight wind that it made him so much more complicated than the best painting in the world could ever reproduce. Even a photograph wouldn't be able to capture the moment, and I'm not sure that I even wanted to try.

I smelt rain on the wind.

I moved towards him and gently picked up a strand of his hair. I heard him breathe deeply, his chest expanding almost far enough to touch me. I rolled the strands between my fingers, peering closely at them in the dim light from the nearest lamp, both looking for the color that I'd been sure had been there and avoiding the polite endurance of my close presence that I was sure was painted all over his face.

I broke the silence. "I thought you'd put green streaks into your hair." I forced a laugh, and it sounded flat even to my ears. "Guess I was wrong."

I moved away, but for the second time that evening Joe grabbed me. His hand closed on my wrist, effectively keeping me by his side. I could feel his pulse in his fingers, and I focused on feeling the increasing tempo through my skin instead of thinking about how close we were and how we were in the shade of a tree in the dark where no one could see us and…and…!

Joe interrupted my thoughts by touching the back of my neck with his left hand. His right hand tightened slightly around my wrist, and I couldn't tell the difference between his pulse and mine anymore.

"Your neck," he murmured softly, flicking my hair away from it. I felt the strands catch the wind and fan out behind my head. "How is it feeling?"

Feeling... Vaguely, I wondered why he should care. Had I been rubbing it or something?

But suddenly my memory was swamped with vivid images from my dream the night before. My neck, snapped with bone splinters poking through the skin. Frog's tongue strangling me. _Haku_…!

I jumped away from him like a startled rabbit. I felt dirty all of a sudden, like I'd been doing something I shouldn't have. And I should've felt like that! I had no business carrying on like that with someone who was barely a friend, let alone a boyfriend…!

AH! Bad thought! Bad Val! Bad! _What was happening to me?! _I screamed in my head.

My sudden anxiety was not unnoticed. Joe looked at me worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

My voice was too shrill. Joe narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Tell me, Val-san!" he demanded.

I forced myself to calm down. "There you go again, Joe!" I said more normally, if a little too high still. "You're being arrogant again."

The worried crease between his eyes faded a little, and Joe chuckled. He relaxed into a more normal pose, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I suppose I am. I am sorry, Val-san. I did not mean to pry."

I was nearly completely better as he bowed in apology. I'd been effective in restoring the distance between us. When we were apart, things were normal. I wasn't confused or anything when I remembered to keep the line. But my reasons for keeping the line became so distant whenever he was close to me…

I laughed to cover my recurring confusion. I hoped Joe didn't notice the slight edge of hysteria. "Of course you meant to pry! But I forgive you." I saw the glowing subway entrance just a little farther down the block and hurried forward. "I've gotta get the train, Joe, I'm already late."

Joe opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't give him a chance. "I guess I'll see you in school tomorrow," I babbled as I retreated to the safety of underground. "I'm glad you're feeling better. Remember, we've got a test tomorrow! Or, you wouldn't remember, I guess, you weren't there this morning. Well, we do, chapter eight, so you better study and I'd better get home!"

Joe smiled a crooked smile and shook his head. "Good night, Val-san."

I paused in my frantic rush and turned to wave. "G'night, Joe."

* * *

"Val!" My mother rushed to greet me as soon as I walked in the door. She hugged me tightly, bag and all. I put up with it for a few seconds before gently pushing Mom away.

"I'm fine, Mom, chill. Just a little hungry." I moved to the fridge and started rummaging around for some leftovers.

Now that Mom had determined that I was all in one piece, she let loose with her irritation. "Call next time you're going to be late!"

I rolled my eyes. "Cells don't work in the tunnels, Mom."

"You shouldn't be taking the subways!" she snapped. "Not at this time of night!"

I closed the door to the fridge with my hip, my arms loaded down with items wrapped in foil and shrink wrap and plastic containers. "Don't start."

"I have every right to start!" Mom retorted. "Those places are dangerous!"

"And I can defend myself!" I said, my temper finally flaring. "I'm helping David with his karate lessons!"

"Taught by a child!"

"Joe is not a child!" I yelled. "He knows a hell of a lot more than anyone else I know, and anyway, if you think that it's not worth anything, why do you let us do it?"

"Maybe I shouldn't!"

"Don't even think about it, Mom," I warned. I grabbed a plate from the cupboard.

"And why shouldn't I?"

_Because then I wouldn't have an excuse to go over to Joe's house_, my treacherous mind whispered. I squashed that whisper firmly and said instead: "Because the lessons are free. And they get David out of the house. And they get me to actually exercise."

"And you want to see Joe," David added from the doorway.

I chucked a roll at him. He ducked and grinned. "It's true!"

"Is not!" I whirled around and faced my shell-shocked mother. "It isn't true!"

She was quickly recovering from her shock. "You like this Joe?" she asked skeptically.

"No!" I caught my brother's glare and quickly amended, "Not like that, Mom. You know me."

She sighed and went over to pick up the roll I'd thrown. "No, I suppose not. Still…" Mom looked at me with a strange light in her eyes. "Be careful. I remember what it was like, all those hormones and boys, and not everyone was nice."

I rolled my eyes and huffed, trying not to think about the blush I could feel on my cheeks. "Joe doesn't like me like that."

"You _think_," David murmured as he walked by me to go to the pantry.

I elbowed him in the ribs and ignored his yelp. David was wrong, I knew it—but at the same time, my mind was frantically pushing images of Joe's hauntingly beautiful face at me from just an hour before.

Mom sighed and nodded her head. "You can continue your lessons with Joe. At least until we find a real place for David to take classes. But I'm not having much luck…" She trailed off and stared at the wall, lost in thought.

"G'night, Mom," I said quickly, trying to hurry her away before she rescinded her 'yes'.

"G'night, dear." She waved vaguely and David and I listened to her walk up the stairs.

I turned to David, ready to rip him a new one, when he quickly asked, "So did you see Joe tonight?"

"Why do you ask?" I replied testily. I quickly scooped out rice and chili onto my plate and popped it in the microwave, watching it intently so it wouldn't overcook and explode all over the inside of the microwave.

David hopped onto one of the stools by the breakfast bar. "He stopped by here earlier."

I looked at my brother skeptically. "No, really, he did! He wanted to talk to you, and when I said you were gone, I told him you were at your psychiatrist's appointment. Actually," he added, frowning a little, "I guess you didn't see him, because he said he'd give you a ride when he found you."

So that's what Joe'd been trying to say before! I flushed when I remembered my idiotic prattling. "How'd he know where I was?" I asked David hurriedly so he wouldn't see my guilty look. "Did you give him directions?"

David looked at me strangely. "Why would I give him directions?"

"So he could find the office!"

"But he already knew where it was."

"Really?" I drawled skeptically. "And how did he know that?"

"He was there the first time we went to that office." I choked—when had Joe been there?! David ignored me and went on. "He saw me looking through the magazines on the table and asked what I was doing. I told him what you were doing, and he told me that he was visiting his foreign exchange student service on the third floor and had seen me in the waiting room and he was curious about me so he came in. I asked him a whole bunch of questions about where he lived, and we talked for a really long time but he left before you came out."

"David!" Mom called down the stairs. "Bedtime!"

David grinned and jumped up to hug me. "Goodnight, big sis."

"G'night, lil bro," I said automatically, my mind in a daze. He sprinted away. I slumped against the counter, ignoring the peep that announced my dinner was done. I could only focus on a single thought that was sprinting around and around my head at top speed: _What was I gonna do?_

Joe—he knew. He knew about my dreams, my innocent naïve little brother having just told him everything. He knew I was a freak.

If David had really told him then, he'd known from the very beginning. As soon as he found out who I was, he would've known I was David's older sister and just like that, he'd know my darkest secret.

But.

Joe still talked to me like a normal person. He joked with me, argued with me, just as if I was a normal teenage girl. He'd even—but I pushed that thought away before I could finish it. I did _not_ need to add that thought to my plate right then.

In any case, he had acted like nothing was wrong. _So,_ I thought with a deep breath, _that's exactly what I'll do._ _Act like nothing's wrong at all. If he hasn't asked any weird questions yet, he won't in the future, and there's no reason to bring up a subject that I don't want to talk about. I'll just let things go the way they've been going, and everything will be fine._

That decided, I plucked out my dinner and set it on the table. A corner of my journal poked out of my bag and caught the corner of my eye as I sat down to eat, but I resolutely ignored it and the brief pinch of panic at the reminder. _Everything will be fine_, I thought again.

_It will be. I'm sure of it._


	12. Chapter 11: Valkyrie no Tabiji

A/N: THANK YOU to all my reviewers and readers! You guys make me good about updates, and I truly enjoy reading your reviews. Thank you so much! –sniffs– I hope the story will be as good as y'all deserve to read.

I tried to get URLs up for these, but I think you'll just have to find them on YouTube yourself. Search on YouTube "Pirates of the Caribbean orchestra medley" and you'll get a ton of hits, pick one you think looks good. After that, search "Spirited Away Suite" (also on YouTube) and the very first hit should be a beautiful arrangement performed by a young man named Piya. Be sure to hear the second part!

Sorry for the delay! I've been writing this sporadically, so I hope it's cohesive. Actually, I had to take such a long vacation that I nearly forgot David's name! Never fear, though, it all turned out alright in the end. Enjoy this next installment!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Eleven: Valkyrie no Tabiji**_

June 6.

D-Day.

Okay, it was 2008, not 1944, but still! I knew that it was time to do or die. I felt the adrenaline surge through my blood and charge my body. My hands trembled as they picked up my weapon of choice. There was a crashing sound in my ears.

Actually, Keith, our percussion player extraordinaire, had just fallen off of the back bleachers with the crash cymbals (no pun intended).

"STOP!" Mr. Christiansen shrieked, and the tremendous cacophony that had previously been our latest attempt at one of at least a thousand "Pirates of the Caribbean" medleys that I had played since the beginning of _forever_ ground to a halt. "Will _somebody_ please remember there's no back to the risers?!"

I snickered as Keith's afro-head bobbed above the risers and nodded frantically. He got to his feet with a clatter of metal and fumbled with the straps. Mr. Christiansen waited another few moments to let the percussion section get reassembled, huffed impatiently, then rapped his baton on the music stand. I lifted my flute to my mouth, and we began again.

It was an all-day rehearsal for our spring concert. We got to miss all of our usual classes and play around instead, except that it wasn't playtime at all. It was like band-Nazi-bootcamp. If we so much as drooped while playing for an hour and a half straight, Mr. Christiansen would swoop down on us like a banshee, yelling at us to correct our postures, dammit, were our arms made of rubber?! And Kelly, get your legs uncrossed! That's gonna look real nice in a skirt tonight! What do you mean, you're not wearing a skirt? That's regulation! And flipflops?! Young lady, I'll have you know that this concert…

Blah blah blah.

My lips were numb by the time the lunch bell rang. I slowly rose, my body stiff from being held in one position for so long. Everyone else looked equally sore, if not more so: the trombones let their arms drag like they were gorillas. We could barely find the energy to pack up our instruments for the half an hour we got off. Mr. Christiansen looked at us like we were crazy.

"And where do you think you're going?" he barked.

"Lunch," we chorused wearily. This happened every year. It was practically tradition.

He looked mildly surprised, then coughed and turned back to his music stand with a final, "12 o'clock!"

I gave a sloppy salute. "Aye aye, captain!" But he didn't see me.

I made my way to the band room and collapsed onto the floor. (We'd stolen all the chairs and music stands for the concert.) Joe, as usual, was playing the piano. I listened for a few moments, enjoying the beautiful sounds that I—for once—had absolutely no hand in creating.

"Do you like it?" Joe asked suddenly. I jumped and saw that he was looking at me, smiling slightly. His hands didn't so much as pause. I envied his ease with his instrument.

"Yeah, actually. What is it?"

Joe smiled a little wider. "Something I'm practicing for tonight's performance."

I rolled my eyes but grinned to show that I wasn't really mad, only teasing. "And its name would be…?"

"Secret."

"As in, it's called 'Secret,' or it _is_ secret?"

Joe just smiled. I groaned and grabbed my sandwich out of my lunch bag. He went back to working, and we spent a few minutes in companionable un-silence—me munching and listening and he playing and swaying in time to the music.

I heard his fingers begin a run that built and built and built… and then silence. I stopped chewing and looked at him, concerned. It wasn't like him to stop in the middle like that.

He was wrestling with the sheet music in the slight breeze coming from the window. One hand was poised above the keys, ready to play on, while the other grappled with the paper that twisted and struggled in his grip. I swallowed the bite I'd been working on and went over to sit on the bench with him. He ignored me, still struggling with the music.

"This is odd," I commented, and with one hand I reached across him and secured the paper beneath a small metal fitting that was designed to hold it still. "You're usually much better with the page turning." Joe looked at me, chagrin and amusement mixing on his face.

"Thanks." He put his hands on the keys and scanned the music for a moment to find his place, but before he could go on, I quickly said:

"Will you need help tonight?" Joe stared at me, and I continued before I lost the nerve, "I can be your page-turner. I used to do it for Sam before she left last year."

He was quiet. "Sure, why not?" he eventually agreed. He gazed at me, and I felt myself catch my breath when his bright green eyes studied my face. He smiled a tiny bit and turned back to the music. "Let's start practicing," he suggested.

"Sure." It came out in a squeak. I saw half of his cheek lift in a smirk. I cleared my throat and quickly amended, "Yeah, let's go."

"From the beginning," he instructed, and rifled through his music until he came to what I presumed was the first page. I eagerly scanned the handwritten notes, looking for a title, but all I saw was a flurry of barely legible notations and dynamic markings. There wasn't even an author's name. I sighed—how had I expected to solve the mystery that easily?—and settled in, my eyes locking into the tempo and skipping across the bar lines as Joe began to play again.

We could only practice together for a little while, and he only practiced the first two pages of the song. When the bell rang, I quickly excused myself to run back to the stage and our possessed director. Joe acknowledged my departure with nothing greater than a shallow nod of his head, his concentration locked on the piece in front of him. As I left the room, out of the corner of my eye I saw him turn to the third page. I made a face but didn't go back. Fine. Joe could keep it a secret. I'd find out tonight, anyway.

The rest of the rehearsal went as expected, with Kelly & Co. rolling their eyes at Mr. Christiansen's pessimistic declarations of the coming Apocalypse. I, like most of the band, ignored the antics on both sides and buckled down to business. Enough of us actually worked that our songs—including "Pirates"—sounded halfway decent. Mr. Christiansen let us go home to get ready with a warning about proper attire and a pointed glare at Kelly.

I got home and went straight upstairs to change into my concert clothes: a pressed white collar shirt and a black velvet skirt that hung well below my knees. A pair of no-nonsense pumps completed my outfit, but for some reason when I looked in the mirror, I felt unfinished. What had I forgotten?

My face looked drawn and white in the dim light of my room—imagine how much more washed-out I'd look tonight under the stage lights! I dug around on my book shelf and found the makeup set David had given me for Christmas. I quickly put a little blush on my cheeks, and immediately I didn't look as worn. I was amazed at the transformation, and decided if I was going to wear makeup, I might as well do it properly. There was a little quick-reference guide underneath the eye shadow tray, and I scanned it for advice.

I managed to apply a dusty grayish-silver eye shadow without too much trouble, and it was incredible how much they made my blue eyes seem deeper and more apparent. It matched the dark streaks of purple that were still slightly visible in my dark brown hair. The eyeliner gave me a little more trouble, and I had to wipe off a first attempt that made me look like I hadn't slept for a week before the makeup merely made my eyes look big. Mascara was a bit of an issue, too. I told myself that no one would care that my fingertips were stained black, and I believed it. Mostly. I stopped the makeup when the final instructions called for lip gloss. Lip makeup plus mouthpiece _always _equaled bad idea.

When I looked in the mirror again, I had to do a double-take. It looked like there was some other girl there entirely! This girl's eyes appeared big and open, like she was constantly surprised. Or maybe that was just me—I was very surprised when I saw my reflection. The other girl's face was angular, but elegant. She seemed very mature and grownup, like she knew things that I didn't. I became disconcerted and looked away. I didn't want to know anything more than I knew already.

I clumped downstairs, not taking any care on the steps in my higher-than-normal shoes. Dad was fiddling with a camcorder, polishing the lens against one of his nice sweaters. Mom had a cell phone clutched to her ear with the night's program that I'd managed to swipe for everybody at the concession stand in her free hand. David was the only one who looked up when I entered the room. He'd been eating spaghetti.

"Hey, David," I greeted him. I eyed the mass of extremely staining tomato sauce that swamped his plate. "Isn't that a little risky for tonight?" He was wearing his nicest blue collared dress shirt, and I'd bet a hundred bucks that he was wearing his good Sunday shoes.

"Nope." David grinned and tweaked the edge of his towel at me. He'd taken the towel and tucked it into the neck of his shirt like an oversized bib. I ruffled his hair.

"Good thinking. Finish up and let's go." David nodded eagerly and hurried through the rest of the noodles. For some reason, David really enjoyed my concerts. What it was about the 'music' created by a hundred some-odd kids who couldn't tune if their life depended on it that attracted him, I couldn't say. I felt grateful that he looked excited, though. Dad was just distracted and Mom was put-out that she had to leave work early. She was still jabbering away at the phone when David finished.

I grabbed my jacket and flute bag with my music in it. "Alright, let's go!" I walked out the door and let the screen bang behind me.

David rushed out the door followed closely by Dad, who was still messing with the camcorder. Mom was the last out, and looked at us all exasperated. "What's the rush?"

I paused in opening my door. "The concert, Mom. It starts in an hour. We've gotta get there in time for warm-ups."

Mom sighed and rolled her eyes. She snapped her phone shut with an experienced flick of her wrist and strode across the lawn. "Let's go, then." She sounded less than enthused.

It was a quiet drive. David played his GameBoy, Dad perused the instruction manual for his camcorder, Mom drove, and I stared out the window at the sky, watching the clouds go from white to pink to an electric orange.

I abandoned the car as soon as they pulled up to the front entrance. They wished me good luck, and I said I'd pass it on because it wasn't me who needed it; it was the rest of my section. Only David laughed.

The band room was full of chittering, excited freshman and bored-out-of-their-minds upperclassmen. After I'd tuned and polished my flute, I went to my chair and sat down, trying to calm the flutters that came into my stomach before every performance. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on my hands.

"Are you alright?" Joe asked in my ear.

I yelped and nearly knocked the flute from lap. I grabbed onto it and glared at him. "I just polished my flute! Now it's smudged."

"You would've had to play it soon anyhow," he pointed out.

"_Soon_ is not _now_," I countered. When he didn't reply, I sighed and said, "I'm fine. Just a little nervous."

He surprised me again when he laughed. "Nervous? Why?"

I became annoyed. "Why not? We're about to perform in front of everyone. Why wouldn't I be nervous?"

He shrugged. He was wearing a white collar shirt and black slacks. I noticed how nicely his shoulders filled out the fabric. "If you are perfect, you have no reason to be nervous."

I laughed at that despite myself. "But no one's perfect, Joe! Not even you. It's part of being human. It's impossible to be perfect."

He made a face. I cocked an eyebrow. "What, _you_ think you're perfect?"

"No, I _know_ I am perfect." He cut me off before I could do anything more than snort in disbelief. "You look nice tonight."

"What, do I normally look terrible?" I asked only half-sarcastically.

"Not at all! Just, ah…" He struggled for the words. I hid a grin. "Different," he finished lamely.

"I put on makeup," I said.

"It suits you." I looked at him to see if he was joking, but he looked serious. For whatever reason, his scrutiny made me blush. It was my turn to change the subject.

"So will you tell me the name of your piece?"

"Nope." He said it with relish, obviously taking pleasure in my frustration. That made me feel aggravated, so I decided to do something unexpected.

I laughed.

He definitely looked confused. "What?"

I laughed again. "You sounded so American just then!"

He laughed, too. "I had a good teacher."

And Mr. Christiansen came in then, so we had to stop talking so that I could warm-up with the rest of the band. Joe, as he was playing the piano, had nothing to do until the concert itself. He stayed in the seat next to me while we tuned, and I felt a little steadier than I had when I'd first walked in. There was something comforting about having someone there to help you out, whether or not that someone really thought there was anything to fret about.

Stupid perfect foreign exchange student.

* * *

Mr. Christiansen stepped off of his small riser to stand in front of the microphone. I was still breathing heavily from the final piece we'd performed as an ensemble—"Pirates"—and I could feel the blood moving hot and fast beneath my skin. It had gone off without a hitch. In fact, the concert had gone truly perfectly, and that left me feeling both drained and elated.

"Thank you," he said when the applause had petered out. "We have one final performance for you tonight, by Mr. Joe Nushi, a very talented pianist who hails from Japan." He motioned for Joe to stand from his seat at the piano bench, and Joe did. He didn't smile. He was very serious—focused, maybe was the better way to describe him. It didn't seem like he really saw the audience that was now politely applauding him. It looked like he was concentrating on something far away, that only he could sense.

He must've felt my eyes on him, because he suddenly turned around and faced me. He smiled and motioned for me to come with one hand. I stood and tried to quietly make my way down to the piano on the floor in front of the stage while Mr. Christiansen continued his introduction:

"This is piece composed by Mr. Nushi himself, inspired, he says, by a folk tale told in his home about a young girl who finds herself in the spirit world and the resulting quest to return to her own world. Ladies and gentlemen, _A Goddess's Journey_."

The audience was still clapping when I reached Joe. He looked up at me and smiled. I gritted my teeth and smiled back—the parents were always watching—while I muttered, "You didn't tell me you wrote it!"

"You never asked," he replied just as quietly. He chuckled at my discomfort. "Sit down, we've got a performance to put on."

I sat down with a humph, but that only made Joe chuckle harder. I smiled a little despite myself, and settled myself on the bench.

The song started off much as I remembered it from practice. A few pretty flourishes, but it soon began in earnest.

We had moved past the first page, and the second, and the third, and still the music surged around us without ceasing, without sounding like it was ever going to stop. I sat on the bench beside Joe, completely enraptured by the haunting theme that wove itself through the composition. My eyes followed the music, my hands slid the pages aside, but I was hardly paying such trivial details. The music flowed and crashed and swirled around Joe and I as if we were the only people in the room, as if we were the only people in the world, as if the music was unfolding for us and us alone.

Unwillingly, surprisingly, my mind floated back to my dreams, and I found that if I listened hard, if I listened closely, I could hear and remember things from my nightmares that I'd forgotten in the agony of my nightly murders. The pain was there, and the terror was too, certainly, but intermingled with the melodies of the lost and the damned were the small, persistent tinklings of the soot ball workers, the satisfaction of the groaning muscles and tired bones after having completed a hard day's work, the excitement and wonder of all the spirits of the bathhouse. Sometimes, while I listened to Joe's fingers dance across the keys, I would suddenly recall the serpentine dragon that occasionally graced my dreams and would have a fierce, longing desire to fly across the sky as he did.

For the first time in a long time—the first time in seven years, in fact—I let my worries and troubles fall away from me like a cocoon. I let myself relax and think for a moment—one brief, shining, terrible moment—that everything might be okay. For the first time, I let myself hope.

The song danced to a close, and I found myself staring at Joe with wide eyes. He stared back at me, his fingers still resting on the keys, the last chords of his composition echoing in my ears. I could see myself reflected in the black of his pupils, and I looked awed and ever so slightly afraid. Afraid…? Of what?

But I had no time to consider this thought as the room erupted in applause. Joe stood and took a bow, and the crowd got even louder, if that was possible. He turned and motioned to me, and I stood too to receive what I thought was undeserved credit.

I started to sit down, but Joe abruptly grabbed my arm and yanked me into his arms. My cheek was pressed against his chest, and I could hear his heart pounding out an irregular tempo against my crushed ear. He smelled like spring rain and fabric softener. It must've been a new detergent. I liked it. I saw several of the flautists give me looks that made Antarctica seem like the Sahara—if looks could kill—but I didn't think about them any more when Joe leaned his head down to whisper softly in my ear, "_Valkyrie no tabiji_."

My ears merely processed the low timbre of his voice without any of the words, and I murmured into his shirt, "Come again?"

I could feel him smirking. I gently hit his shoulder and heard his chuckle rumble out of his chest. "_Valkyrie no tabiji_," he repeated.

I lifted my head far enough to look at him quizzically. "You asked me what the piece was called," he said by way of explanation.

"But I thought it was called _A Goddess's Journey_," I said, confused.

He laughed. "Where's your Japanese when you need it, Val-san?"

I made a face. "English!"

"Nope." He smacked his lips together on the final syllable and grinned a Cheshire cat smile down on me. "Figure it out on your own, Val-san."

I grimaced and opened my mouth to force him to tell me, but I was torn from him by an enthusiastic David and an equally thrilled Mr. Christiansen. Joe peered around Mr. Christiansen at me and smiled ruefully. I shot him a look—the we'll-discuss-this-_later_ look—but let David tug me away from the piano to our surprisingly excited parents.

Lying in bed that night, my face pink and clean and makeup-free, I couldn't figure what exactly I was afraid of when Joe had finished his piece that evening. Afraid of such talent coming from someone so young? Perhaps, but probably not. Afraid of the memories Joe's song had stirred up? Closer, but not quite. Afraid of what I was finally allowing myself to feel? That was as good an answer as I could find that night, and so I rolled to my side and began to fall asleep.

The answer to the riddle of the title of the song came to me right before I became unconscious, which basically guaranteed that I'd forget it by morning. _Valkyrie no tabiji,_ a small voice whispered in the back of my mind. An equally small voice replied in English,

_Valkyrie's Journey_.


	13. Chapter 12: Invitation

A/N: I hope the quote is correct. It's what we say at my house whenever this situation comes up; I thought it gave a little humor to the scene.

A 1000 hits! Cool! Thanks for reading, everybody!

A friendly reminder: Language. That's all. :D

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Twelve: The Invitation**_

"Hey…Mom?"

Mom glanced at me. The month's bills and receipts were strewn on the kitchen table, though I knew better than to try and rearrange the papers. Believe it or not, they were actually organized, a fact that somehow registered in my mere mortal's mind as a complete and utter mess. "Yes?"

I briefly considered leaving then and just going on with my plans—better to beg forgiveness later than to ask permission now—but abandoned that idea. "Um… Are we doing anything the fourteenth?"

"Of June?"

_Duh, Mom_. "Yeah, next week."

"I don't know." She eyed me suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"

"There's nothing on the calendar," I said, ignoring her question.

Mom leaned back in her chair, giving me her full and undivided attention. I gulped. Under that intense stare, I felt a clammy sweat dew on my forehead. I was starting to understand why she was such a damn good lawyer. "If there's nothing on the calendar, then nothing's going on." Her tone implied _'Yet.' _At this point, though, I was beginning to question whether there would actually _be_ anything at all if she was going to keep this up.

I decided to plow ahead. "It's the day before Joe leaves to go home, and I—well, David and I—_we_ want to throw him a going away party."

Mom's eyebrows rose. "Joe?"

I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Jeez, Mom, Joe! _Joe_? Joe _Nushi_? The foreign exchange student who's been giving David and me karate lessons for weeks? _That_ Joe!"

"Oh." She tapped her cheek, trying to remember. The wrinkles smoothed across her forehead and she exclaimed, "Oh! That's right. The one you have a crush on."

"I—what?!" I must've jumped a foot high when she said that. "No!"

She chuckled, a wicked glint sparkling in her ordinarily dark brown eyes. "_Methinks the lady doth protest too much_."

I was momentarily sidetracked. "Wow, Mom. That's, like, _Shakespeare_."

She laughed. "That's, like, _right_." I scowled. "I went to high school, too, you know. I had to read the classics just like you do. Though, in _my_ day, we didn't have those 'one page Shakespeare, one page modern English' copies. Or SparkNotes."

I shuddered. "That's cruel and unusual punishment. You should sue. I know a good lawyer for that."

She chuckled. "Thanks, but no. Minors didn't have those sorts of rights back then, _especially_ at school. I was lucky that we didn't have a dress code, actually." I opened my mouth to ask her more—like, "You actually wore something _besides_ power suits?"—but she raised her hand. "As fascinating as all this is, it's beside the point, which is…?"

I scrambled to reassemble my thoughts. "We want to have a party. Here. At the house." Mom glowered at me. I tacked on a "Please?" to make it a little more palatable. It felt a little awkward in my mouth. I wasn't used to asking permission for this. Or for anything, really.

Mom mulled it over. "I can't see why not," she said finally. Her mouth widened into a smile, and immediately she looked twenty years younger. Take away the wrinkles and grey streaks, and she looked like a girl version of David. It wasn't hard to see what attracted my dad to her some seventeen-odd years ago. "It's great to see you taking an interest in the living again."

I groaned for her benefit but moved to her side of the table to give her a brief and rather awkward—but no less genuine—hug. "Thanks, Mom." Her skin was soft and smelled like baby powder.

She shifted in the chair and hugged me back. "You're welcome."

I drew away and began to move away to tell David the good news, but she stopped me with a cool hand on my wrist. "Will you need help?"

I thought about it, and shook my head. "Naw, I don't think so. Though, I think I'll need to stay home from school next Friday," I added. "To get ready."

"Sure. Just don't get behind in school."

I nodded my agreement, but she'd already turned back to her bills. I started up the stairs, leaving my mom to work out the organized chaos in front of her. My shoulders were warm where she'd embraced me, and her surprisingly soft smell lingered in my bangs when they fell into my face and under my nose. I inhaled deeply and ran the last few steps to the landing. "_David! We've got work to do!_"

* * *

The next week was a blur, what with shopping to do and cookies to bake and DJs to hire and people to invite and little brothers to _keep their God-blessed sticky fingers out of the mother-lovin' batter, dammit_! David and I both skipped our last karate lesson, David pleading a cold and me begging out because of physics homework. Considering the fact that all we were doing in homeroom was watching Shrek, the excuse was a wee bit thin, but Joe didn't push it.

He was a little more worried when I didn't show up in school the day of the party. I'd called in to Ms. Marks that morning to tell her what the deal was and to tell her the official story as to why I was absent. She'd assured me that she'd tell the class why I was gone, but that _still_ didn't stop Joe from coming to my house directly after school.

The doorbell rang just as I was about to check on the last set of monster cookies—peanut butter and oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips and M&M's—in the oven. Wiping my floury hands on my mother's apron which I'd 'borrowed' for the afternoon, I jogged to the front door. "Coming!"

I wrenched open the door and nearly screamed. Joe was standing on my front porch with a pile of text books in his arms and a wry expression. "Val-san? Did I come at a bad time?"

"Uh…" I thought quickly. "Um, no! Not at all!" I stepped out of the house and firmly shut the door behind me, forcing Joe to back up or get hit.

"I thought you were not feeling well," he said quietly. "I brought your books for you." He lifted the stack and a notebook slid off the top. I snagged it before it hit the deck and earned a suspicious look. "You must've improved since this morning."

"H-hai," I stammered. Now Joe's eyebrows rose.

"Japanese?"

"Oh!" _Crap_! I laughed nervously. "Um, yeah, I, uh, am feeling better, thanks. Right, let me take those!" I made a grab for the pile of books, but he stepped back, almost off the step.

"Are you sure you're feeling better, Val-san?" he asked. I thought he was sincere until I saw the wolfish grin. "You're looking a little…feverish?" He pretended to think. "What's the word I'm looking for?"

"Stop it," I ordered sharply. "You know perfectly well what word you want, dammit."

"Ah, you _must_ be feeling better. You're back to insulting people when you're off balance."

"I do not!" I retorted.

"Do so."

"Do not—Oh!" I huffed, exasperated. "Why am I even _arguing_ with you?"

"Because you love it?" he suggested.

"Oh, shut up."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bright green van pull around the corner with the words "Mozart's DJ" scrawled across the side in shocking lightning blue. Oh, _double_ crap. My mouth started going on turbo drive; I could hardly keep track of what I was saying as I pushed Joe down the stairs and to his own house. "Well, thanks for bringing my books for me. I really wasn't feeling well this morning, David's cold must've been catching, but it was no where near as bad as it was that one time, you remember? Of course you do, you're the one who gave it to me! Well, thanks for bringing the books!"

"You said that twice."

"Did I?" To hell with crap. _Fuck_. "Well, a double thank you! In fact, I'm so thankful, you can come by around eight so that I can fully show my appreciation. That's eight. Tonight. In the PM, as it were. Eastern Standard Time."

"Right," Joe said. I could hear him trying not to laugh. "Eight o'clock. Tonight. Got it. I think."

"That's good. See you tonight?" But I didn't give him a chance to answer me. I literally shoved a bemused and thoroughly confused Joe into his own house and sprinted back to my house, waving frantically to get the dumbass driver to pull around back before Joe could see it and before my cookies burned into cinders in the oven.

* * *

By the time eight rolled around, I was exhausted. But everything looked perfect. Even my dad was impressed when he finally emerged from his Dad Cave by the kitchen. The backyard was lit by red Chinese paper lanterns and tiki torches that had some oily goop that was supposed to keep mosquitoes away. A few folding tables by the house were loaded up with the offerings of friends and neighbors, enough that I was worried it was going to collapse with the weight. There was everything from the humble bottle of soda to Mrs. Nielson's famous homemade pierogies still in the crockpot (I'd had to find an extension cord for it). The DJ made himself useful while we waited for the guest of honor to show up, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back for a good pick. He specialized in modern instrumental pieces—perfect for our own neighborhood pianist prodigy. John Williams' "Hedwig's Theme" whispered through the muffed conversations as we waited for Joe to come. I anxiously looked past the hand painted sign that said "GOODBYE JOE" in both English and Japanese calligraphy to the darkening sky. It was nearly time. The last guest had arrived, the gifts were sitting on their designated tables, the food was prepared—all we lacked was Joe.

Suddenly, David came zooming out of the darkness, shrieking as loud as he dared, "He's coming, he's coming!"

I hooked an arm around David's waist. "Shush! He'll hear you!" But it'd be a miracle if Joe could hear my brother's cries over my pounding heart.

We waited together, listening as my mother welcomed Joe—thank _God_ she remembered his name—at the front door.

"I think she's out back," we heard her say. "Could you get her for me?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Hiver."

I couldn't help it; I giggled. David glared at me and jammed a finger to his lips. But really, how was I supposed to keep myself from giggling at Joe's constant politeness? We were like night and day, really. It was surprising that we were friends at all. But we were.

The gate latch jerked up and the hinges creaked. Before we could so much as see him, David, unable to keep quiet any longer, screamed, "_SURPRISE_!"

We laughed at his outburst and chorused a little behind, "_Surprise, Joe_!"

Joe's eyes were wide with surprise—even in the dim light, I could see the look of complete astonishment on his face, and I felt a small, warm glow of satisfaction warm my chest. He had changed from the shirt and jeans from earlier, I noted. I wondered if he always dressed in a pair of black slacks and a green dress shirt when visiting his friends' houses in Japan, and if he always brought them a rose like the one he clutched in his hand.

But then, I'd changed for tonight, too. I'd seen a beautiful deep brown kimono with pale green ivy embroidery at the hems in a store in Chinatown while shopping for the party, and I couldn't resist. The original straight-line design had been modified for an American consumer, and I found I had had no trouble with my chest or hips in the foreign dress. The tiny wrinkled woman behind the counter had found a pair of matching hair chopsticks that I now wore in a bun, the little faux-emerald beads swinging every time I turned my head.

David dragged me to the still-frozen Joe. "Hi, Joe!" he chirped excitedly.

Joe looked down and grinned. "Hey, David-kun." He ruffled David's hair.

"Watch it!" I protested, grabbing Joe's hand away from David's head. "I spent a good twenty minutes getting that hair of his to lie flat!"

"It's no big deal," David grumbled. He dug at the patio with his black-leather-clad toe, and I winced. Obviously, David did not care as much about his nice clothes—which included a very staining pair of khaki slacks and a light blue collared shirt—when it was not a concert or church.

"No, no," Joe laughed. "Far be it from me to ruin your hard work, Val-san." He bowed a little.

"Don't bow!" I scolded. "You're in America, remember?"

"Not for much longer," he replied, suddenly serious. He looked at me pensively, almost sad.

I swallowed and turned my head. The chopstick beads swung over my shoulder, twinkling in the light. I forced myself to say lightly, "That's why we're here tonight! To give you a proper sending off."

Joe laughed again, his mood, too, lightening. "I feel like I'm already home!" He waved the hand with the rose at my kimono, and I smiled.

"I'm glad. Now, I'll put that rose in some water, and you go to your party, 'kay?"

"C'mon!" David yelled, pulling at Joe's arm.

"It doesn't look like I have much choice," he commented dryly. "Talk to you later?"

"Of course! Now shoo!" I waved them off and bustled into the house to find a vase for the flower.

* * *

My chance to talk with Joe was a while in coming. First was the food. Everybody lined up with their paper plates and plastic utensils—I was _not_ doing dishes for thirty-odd people—to grab whatever they wanted from the tables. I noticed, not without some smugness, that my cookies were the first deserts to disappear.

After the food were the presents. There were a couple joke presents—a CD of "The Hamster Dance," for example, which confused Joe to no end—but a few serious ones as well, like the photo album of candid shots Emily, the school's amateur photographer, had taken throughout his stay, ostensibly for the yearbook but I'd caught the look she (like every other female I knew) sent his way whenever he wasn't looking. There were some pretty good pictures in there. I flipped through it briefly when I put it on the stack with the rest of the opened gifts while he ripped through the paper of the next present. Near the end was a page from the concert. I smiled briefly as I saw that in most of them Joe was looking very stern standing beside the piano. In fact, there was only one in which he was smiling. He had turned away slightly from the lens, but I could see his lips were parted, as if he was saying something amusing. His eyes were wide and expectant, and his hand was raised as if beckoning something on.

Or summoning someone forward. My throat suddenly grew tight as I remembered when that picture must've been taken and I quickly closed the book and put it on the stack like I was supposed to have done in the first place, turning my attention to Joe, who was now unveiling a new camera from Mr. Smith, ironically enough.

Then came the speeches. Mr. Smith made a very long-winded speech that started about how he'd always wanted a son and ended with global warming. I hid a smile while Joe thanked Mr. Smith very seriously for allowing him into his home for the last six months. Amanda was next—who had been very excited to come to send Joe off, despite their previous misunderstanding—to speak on behalf of all of his friends from school. She mentioned something about fall, I think, how sad but how necessary change was, and some other artistic wordy crap.

David spoke last. He ran up to the microphone as soon as the applause for Amanda's speech had petered out. He frowned at the microphone and had to jump up to yank it down.

Joe chuckled in my ear. I yelped and spun around to face him. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at my brother. "He's short now, but he'll be tall before long," he commented.

"Nushi, dammit, stop skulking in the shadows!" I snapped. We were relatively alone; I was by the back of the crowd. David was now chattering excitedly into the microphone, and I felt vaguely guilty at not paying attention to my little brother.

Joe frowned and shifted. His face was in shadow. When he opened his mouth to speak, his teeth shone white in the darkness. "I told you not to call me Nushi, Val-san."

"Then don't be so damn irritating!"

"I wanted to talk to you without everyone knowing," he hissed, quiet but forceful. "Or did you _want_ me to summon you up front to the microphone?"

"It'd be better than scaring me all the time!"

"Fine," he ground out, and he would've gone up to the front if I hadn't grabbed him arm. The muscles in his arm shivered when I touched him. I ignored the answering shivers up my spine and tightened my hold.

"Stop it." When he wouldn't face me, I sighed and dragged him back. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to get irritable. Especially not on your last night here."

His eyes softened when he heard my regret. "I apologize for startling you, but I really did mean to talk to you."

"Okay, then talk." I kept my eyes on my enthusiastic brother while Joe murmured in my ear:

"Val-san, I want you to come with me."

I was confused, to say the least. "What are you talking about, Joe?"

"Back home. With me. To Japan."

My heart leapt at his words, but my mind immediately reined me in. "My parents would never allow it."

"On the contrary, they are quite excited about it for you."

"You spoke to them?!" I looked up at him now, half-expecting him to be joking. But his eyes were extremely serious as they bore into mine. I blinked.

"Yes."

I grasped at straws, though why in the world I was resisting this invitation, I had no idea. "But what about David? We always spend the summer together!"

"And you would. Your parents said he could come as well."

"I…"

I was cut off by my brother's piercing shout, "So thanks, Joe!" The crowd tittered and applauded, but I hardly heard it. All I could hear was my pounding heart, all I could see was Joe's dark emerald eyes trying to peer into my soul and lift the answer out.

"What do you say, Val-san?" he asked softly.

There was only one thing I could say.

"Yes."


	14. Chapter 13: Flight

A/N: It's finished! Yay!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Thirteen: Flight**_

"_No!"_

_But Haku insisted. "You must eat some food from this world, or you'll disappear."_

"_No!" I insisted again. I threw my hands against his chest, but I didn't feel the firm, warm flesh that I expected. In fact, I felt nothing at all. I saw my fingertips slide through his body as if my hands had turned to colored mist. With a whimper, I cradled my hands against my chest and began to rock back and forth. "It's too late… it's too late…!"_

_Haku's jaw tightened when he heard my words. Despite the warm amber glow from the spirit's ferry not ten meters from where we crouched, his eyes were black as pitch. I looked at him from between my bangs and shuddered. He looked like the god I knew he was: terrible, driven and, powerful._

"_Not yet," he vowed. "Don't give up!"_

_I giggled, but it came out warped and twisted until not a shred of hilarity remained. It was pathetic. "Too late for that. Seven years too late…"_

"_Damn it, Chihiro! Just eat—!" He tried to stuff the blood-red berry between my ghostly lips, but I was too far gone by that time. I felt my body slowly dissolve away and disperse on the night wind. I sighed and allowed the inevitable to happen. All in all, this was not a bad way to die; more peaceful by far than anything else that had happened in this cursed spirit world._

_Nope. Not a bad way to die at all…_

_

* * *

_I woke slowly, gently, from my sleep. My eyes remained closed, but I could see the light bursts and strange, negative fireworks that said I was awake and not merely between dreams. I cracked open my eyelids and saw the time. 3:29. AM. I moaned, rolling over on my mattress. That was no where _near_ enough time to recover from the party last night. I hadn't gotten back upstairs until well past midnight.

_But_, I thought, smiling into my sheets, _it had been completely worth the loss of sleep_. It had been perfect. I couldn't have done anything better.

Deciding that I'd wait a little while before trying to fall back asleep, I was lazily reaching for my journal by the clock when I heard a tiny snick and my radio blasted on. Cursing loudly, I slapped the snooze alarm and sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes while still fumbling around for my journal. Why the hell had I set my alarm for 3:30 in the friggin' morning?!

My memories from the night before came crashing through my sleepy haze and sent me jumping out of my bed as if I'd been electrocuted.

Morning. 6:00 AM flight. To Japan. With Joe.

_Hell_!

I grabbed my bag and opened the door. I'd gone to bed sleeping in a pair of comfortable but presentable sweats, planning that something like this would happen and leave me no real time to fumble through my wardrobe for an outfit. The bag was an emergency travel kit I always had packed with my favorite clothes and the things I absolutely couldn't live without. (Why did I even have a bag like that? What can I say except that I was in the Girl Scouts for a while before I whined enough for Mom to let me quit, but not before my troop leader—who thought she was still a Cub Scout leader—beat the motto "Always Prepared" into my head) My five-odd journals and a couple of pens thrown in, and I was ready for Japan.

Smart packing was apparently not a genetic trait. As I was exiting my room, I ran into David, who was huffing and puffing and trying to knock the house—or, at least, his bedroom door—down with a suitcase that was bulging with all sorts of bizarre, stiff angles.

"David!" I hissed. I was appalled. "There's a weight limit!"

"I know." David beamed at me proudly. "It's under the limit; I checked on Mom and Dad's bathroom scale before I went to bed."

I gaped at him. "If that thing broke because you had that monster of a bag on it," I said at last, "then you are going to be in _so_ much trouble. And you'll even deserve it."

He shrugged. "I'll be in Japan by then."

I shook my head. "Foolish mortal."

With a final grunt, he wiggled his suitcase out of his door, and as he turned toward the stairs with his suitcase wheeling along behind him, I saw the distinct outline of a certain favorite teenage mutant turtle action figure with special edition nun chucks strain against the black of the canvas fabric. I grinned. Maybe David was more nervous than he'd let on—he never let that thing out of his room, let alone the country before.

We both arrived in the kitchen at the same time to the same scene of utter chaos. Dad was sitting in the doorway to his study, apparently feeding in papers to his copier. Mom was pacing the floor with a phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder and her headset on, connected by a cord to her cellphone lying open on the counter. Her face was slowly turning red with anger. I wondered what was making her so angry for a moment before I realized that she wasn't speaking. She must be on hold—on both lines. I smothered a chuckle. She absolutely _despised_ that.

Mom looked up from the cord she was clutching with her right hand when we walked in. She nodded approvingly when she saw my gym bag but frowned at my little bro'.

"Told you," I murmured to him before Mom said,

"That's too much." Her eyes lit up and she muffled the headset microphone with her hand while she spoke into the phone, "Yes, that was meant for you, too. Two thousand dollars a head is too much!"

My jaw dropped. "Two _thousand_ dollars? _Each_?" I looked at Dad. "No way the tickets cost that much."

He smiled, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. He continued feeding paper into the printer as he replied, "Round trip tickets for minors to another country? I think that's quite reasonable. Besides, we bought the tickets last week; your mother's just looking to complain, I think. It soothes her."

"Well, it ruffles me," I grumbled. David and Dad laughed.

"Don't worry about the luggage," Dad told David. "Whatever extra weight you have in that bag, they'll let you keep because you're so skinny. Speaking of which, make sure you eat over there! Don't you dare turn your nose up at anything," he added warningly with a stern look at David. "It'll probably be a lot of fish, so be prepared."

"Fish?" David whined.

"Yes, fish. And you will eat it and like it, young man."

David opened his mouth to complain. I whacked his head before he could get it out. "Shut up and be grateful you're even going, little bro. I still don't think you're old enough to go, but whatever."

Dad snorted, and I stared. I'd never heard him do that before; I'd thought I was the only one in the family who did. "As if we'd let you go to another country with a boy by yourself!"

I rolled my eyes. "As if David's going to be a chaperone!"

"Why?" David asked innocently. "Do you need one?"

"Argh! Stop it!"

"That's enough!" Mom snapped, and she ripped off her headset and hung up the phone. "It's almost four now; we've gotta go if you want to make it through security and get to your flight on time."

David and I both quickly hugged our dad while Mom waited, tapping her foot impatiently and holding the screen door open for us. Dad wouldn't be coming to the airport with us—something about his back acting up again. He pressed two nearly identical packets of paper into our hands. "Those are important. Don't lose them. And, oh, I nearly forgot." He reached into a pants pocket and pulled out a deck of bright yellow cards, secured by a rubber band. "These are for the flight." David snatched them up and stuffed them into his own pocket before I could even read the topmost card.

"Hurry up!"

"Bye, Dad!"

"Bye! See you in a couple of weeks!"

"Goodbye, kids. Have fun." I can only presume that he watched us leave the kitchen and kept his hand raised until he couldn't see us anymore. I'd like to think that, but I don't know. I wasn't watching. I wish I had been, because that was the last I saw of my dad for a really, really long time.

Of course, I said goodbye to my mom a little later. We got through security with little hassle, though Mom threatened to sue the security guard who wanted us to do a strip search. That was rather entertaining, I must admit. The waiting area for flights was nice. Large, and grey, and metallic, sure, but it had really nice windows. I could see the sun struggling to break free of the mountains that pinned it down. The new light slid across the tails and wings of the giant metal birds that sat, brooding, on the runway. It seeped into the room, making the dark seats an even darker shade of violet. It bathed Joe's face in such a radiant glow that I thought for a moment that I must be dreaming again. He was waiting for us by a window, and I was the first one to see him. I didn't tell Mom or David that I saw him; I merely watched him silently for a moment. His eyes were closed and his face was turned to face the coming dawn.

He was beautiful.

David interrupted my musing with an excited yell. "Joe!"

Joe turned his head. He smiled at us in welcome, but I shivered. His eyes…

His eyes were completely black.

But then, his back was to the light now. I shook my head at my silliness.

Joe looked at me curiously. "Nani?"

I groaned from habit. "English, please."

He smiled widely. "Ah, but we'll be in Japan soon."

"Yes, but David here—" I motioned towards him, ignoring his indignant "Hey!" "—won't understand a word you say if you continue to speak in Japanese."

"Then translate for him." He raised his eyebrows in mock-disbelief. "Or are you telling me that you can't?"

"Why don't you teach him Japanese, then, so nobody has to translate?"

"But he's your brother—you teach him."

"Or, better yet, just speak the language that we all understand. English."

"Stop bickering!" Mom snapped. Immediately we stopped talking. "Well, I can see this is off to a fantastic start."

"Don't worry about it, Mom." David patted Mom's arm reassuringly. He sighed dramatically. "They're always like this. Even if they—"

It was Nushi, surprisingly, who came to the rescue. "I think it's time to board, no?" He pointed to the counter, where a very sleepy-looking receptionist was just taking her place by the gate.

Mom looked a little mollified. Without any further conversation, she marched us to the counter. She watched us go through the motions of last-minute baggage and boarding pass checks with a maternal sort of pride—she'd taught her little ducklings well enough that she could let them go to another country and take care of themselves.

I was consciously aware of her gaze as I finished the final preparations before boarding the plane. I didn't know what to say or what to do—things were always so awkward between us—but the issue resolved itself when my brother suddenly turned away from the gate and threw himself at our mother's waist. She looked surprised, and then her expression softened. She stroked David's hair.

"Be good and listen to Val, alright?" David nodded into her middle, not saying a word. She went on: "It's a big adventure, David, that's what it is. You'll be home before you know it, telling me all about what Japan is like."

"But you've been there before," David mumbled into Mom's sweater. "I won't tell you anything new."

Mom smiled gently. "But I've never seen it how you'll see it, David, honey. I'll always want to hear what you see." She squeezed him and let him go.

She gazed at me then, a small piece of tenderness still in her gaze for the little girl that she'd known seven years ago but was all but erased. "Look after him, Valkyrie."

My throat got tight and her image started swimming in front of me. I found that I couldn't look at her anymore. "Of course," I said to the gate. I gestured blindly behind me, my hand questing for David's. "Let's go."

Small fingers touched my palm, and I clutched my brother's hand as if I would never let it go. I probably wouldn't.

David and I walked down the tunnel to the plane. I didn't look back.

Joe was already on the plane by the time we ducked through the open hatch. For such a large aircraft—it had a middle row of two with rows of three on each side—there were only a few people there. I was relieved. I hated crowds.

Joe sat in the aisle seat. When he saw us coming, he quickly removed his headphones and stood up to let us through. David dashed to the window seat with an excited squeal. I paused long enough to grab a complimentary pillow and blanket from the overhead compartment and plopped into the seat next to David. I leaned the chair back and clutched my carry-on tightly between my feet.

"You're supposed to leave your seat upright before take-off," Joe commented mildly. I heard the seat creak as he settled in next to me.

Without opening my eyes, I peeled my lips from my teeth in a silent hiss.

"Alright, I get it! No need to snarl."

"Is that what she was doing?" David asked innocently. "I thought she was making a kissy-face."

I groaned. Resisting the urge to punch my little brother so he would stop making idiotic comments and worry more about the health of his face, I slid the pillow out from beneath my head so I could press it against my face.

Despite the extra barrier, I still heard Joe respond, "No, I doubt she tries to bite someone trying to kiss her."

"This is Val we're talking about, though," David mused. "Who knows? Maybe she does. It wouldn't surprise me."

"Who knows." Joe's sudden black tone shut David up. I was still going to have to kill him later, though. I let the pillow slip through my fingers to fall into my lap. The chair's headrest made a nice pillow, anyway. I fell asleep with Joe's whisper in my ear, "Who knows indeed, Val-san."

* * *

I have to find him! _my head cried frantically._ He's hurt, I need to find him and get him to Kamaji, he'll know what to do…!

_Without looking at the immense drop to the sea swirling below me, I took my first st6ep onto the rusty pipe. I swayed a little, but it held firm. I released the breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding and took another step._

_The pipe shuddered and, with a terrible grating noise, it ripped itself free of the wall. I shrieked and tried to run across it, but my little legs couldn't carry me across fast enough. A cry escaped my lips and my feet left the pipe, pinwheeling in the empty air. _

_I grabbed for the pipe, but it was too late, the metal fell away from my hands, crumbling as it tumbled into the waves, and I closed my eyes as the roaring grew louder—_

—and I felt a sudden jerk on my shoulders. My eyes popped open and I saw Joe leaving over me, panic and worry plain on his features. His dark hair fell around his paler-than-normal face in utter disarray, as if he'd been wrestling a crazy person not two seconds before.

Which might well have been the case, I realized with a quick blush. Immediately, my normal gruff defenses came up at my embarrassment: "Let go of me!"

In spite of my tone, relief washed his face clear of anxiety and brought a slight ruddy color back to his cheeks. He let go of my shoulders but continued to study my face. "Are you alright?"

I grunted noncommittally. When he didn't move away, I pushed at his chest, ignoring the shivers that ran up my arms when I felt his heat in the cool air-conditioned cabin. "I'm fine! Happens all the time, now will. . .you. . .move…Hey!"

My ineffective efforts to shove him away were suddenly halted when he grabbed my hands and neatly twisted them into a pretzel shape on my chest.

"Are you sure?" he pressed me. I turned my head so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"I'm sure already!"

"You know," David piped up, "I'm not so sure about that."

Joe and I both looked at him: me in annoyance, him in resigned acceptance.

"Yes, David-kun?" Joe asked politely. I rolled my eyes.

David flashed me a smug smile before continuing in a totally serious voice that made my stomach drop through the seat because I knew that voice: "I don't think she's completely awake yet."

Joe made a muffled sound. When I glared at him, his face was completely smooth and his eyes were on David. "Why do you say that, David-kun?"

"For one thing, she hasn't cursed yet."

"Ah." He made the muffled noise again. This time I recognized the laughter before he could completely suppress it. "Well. That certainly is a possibility. What would you recommend to wake her, then? We certainly can't have her screaming my name again."

"Your name?" David's eyes sharpened.

"My Japanese name," Joe explained dismissively. He glanced back at me. "Your suggestion, David-kun…?"

I could see David wrestling with his natural curiosity and his need to be an interfering obnoxious little brother.

His sibling instincts won out. "There's only one way to wake a sleeping beauty."

"How?"

I was frantically trying to figure out where he was going with this when David said, "You've gotta kiss her, of course!"

Joe's hands tightened on my wrists. I glared at him, and he looked at me bemusedly.

"Don't even try it, Nushi," I warned him.

He smiled. "Now I have to, Val-san. I told you never to call me Nushi."

His face came closer to me, and my hands moved instinctually. I ripped my wrists out of his hold and my fingers curled into a fist to slam into his right jaw.

Joe fell back, his eyes wide in shock. He stared at me, completely amazed.

I smiled sweetly at him. "I did warn you."

As I pressed the button for the flight attendant to bring us some ice, David said in wonder, "I guess those karate lessons were good for something after all."

Joe chuckled and winced. I hoped it hurt. "That they were, David-kun," he said carefully. "That they were."

I settled back into my seat to pretend to sleep for the rest of the flight.


	15. Chapter 14: Welcome

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki-san would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter 14: Welcome**_

The plane burrowed through the brilliantly white plateau of clouds into a brooding, overcast Japan. I peered past Joe to look out the window, trying to discern a difference between this tarmac and the one we'd left only hours before, but it was as if we'd been circling for hours and had landed in the exact same place. Nothing screamed, "You're in another freakin' _country_!" How anticlimactic.

Joe sighed and turned over, smashing his face against the plastic porthole. He'd fallen asleep as we'd crossed the Pacific. I'd welcomed the respite from his and David's inane travel games. (I couldn't very well tell them to shut up if I was pretending to be asleep, now, could I?)

The plane bumped and rolled down the asphalt. David strained eagerly against his seatbelt, ready to bolt to freedom as soon as the hatch opened. I gently whacked him upside the head.

"Wait for the seatbelt sign to turn off," I said as David resentfully rubbed his head. "It'll go off soon enough."

"It's like you're not even excited to be here!" David groused.

I shrugged. "I am, but I'm not going to run over every person on this plane just to get out first. Tokyo'll still be there when it's our turn."

I turned my back on my still-muttering brother to stare at Joe thoughtfully. To wake him, or not to wake him? The plane had nearly stopped…

Joe solved my dilemma by yawning and stretching as best he could in the narrow confines of his seat. I grinned. He looked like a cat, with his tousled hair and his lazy, half-lidded eyes.

"Nani?" he asked when he noticed my bemused expression.

I sighed and rolled my eyes but didn't correct him. We _were_ in Japan, after all. "You need a hairbrush. And we're here."

Joe smiled with pleasure. "Home."

I snorted and began untangling my legs from the complimentary lap rug that had fallen at some point during the trip. "Home for you, anyway."

David interrupted whatever response Joe would've made. "Can we go now?" he pleaded, bouncing in his seat. "Please?"

Joe laughed. "Of course."

"Wait a sec," I countermanded, snatching the neck of his shirt before he could go racing off. I draped the throw across the seat with my free hand and hauled my carry-on over my shoulder. I released him with a stern look as Joe and I edged our way out of our seats. David huffed and stood in the aisle impatiently while we grabbed the boys' backpacks from the overhead compartment.

"Got everything? Good! Let's go!" And he was off. I was surprised there wasn't a dust cloud in his wake, he left so fast.

Joe readjusted the strap on his shoulder and motioned for me to proceed, grinning widely. "Ladies first."

"Oh, shove it." But I was smiling as I passed by the waving flight crew and stepped into the generic grey hallway that led to the Tokyo International Airport.

I walked through the gate and into chaos.

Kanji, everywhere. My eyes skipped across the black characters, barely able to read an advertisement for lip gloss or a new anime film before flashing lights diverted my attention. Babbling, broken conversations flooded my ears, filling them with meaningless introductions and gossip. Part of my head was screaming with the stimuli, withdrawing, while a second part surged forward to bask and relish in the sights and sounds.

I must've made some noise—I'd certainly stopped in the middle of pedestrian traffic—because immediately I felt a warm, heavy hand on my shoulder and a slight, smooth hand slip into my sweaty palm to clutch it tightly.

I turned to Joe, my panicked eyes seeking his calm ones. His fingers tightened on my shoulder as he saw how completely shell-shocked I was. His mouth quirked.

"Water," he said firmly, steering me to an empty row of seats by the window near the gate. "You need water. Put your head between your knees," he instructed. I felt a comforting squeeze before his hand lifted. "Don't pass out while I'm gone."

The noise swelled when he left, threatening to swamp me again. I groaned. Closing me eyes, I let my head swing down until all I could see were my jeans and the standard slate-grey airport carpet. David patted my hand awkwardly.

"Don't worry," he soothed. I could hear him trying to keep his voice steady, but it wavered all the same. A ribbon of guilt wrapped around my stomach and squeezed. How much more confusing must David have found all this! _I_ should have been comforting _him_.

"I don't know where Joe's going," he continued, "but I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"He went to get water," I rasped.

"What?"

Joe answered that himself when he returned with a bottle of water. "Here, Val-san."

"Thanks." I grabbed the water with both hands to hide my trembling and squirted some into my mouth. It fell with a refreshing coolness into my empty stomach. I felt oddly empty and clean, like I'd just finished crying.

David looked like we'd hit him with a bowling ball. His head practically revolved on his neck, trying to look at both of us at once. "Ari…what did you say?"

"Arigatou." I frowned. That hadn't been what I'd intended to say.

I cleared my throat and tried again: "Thank you." The words felt harsh on my tongue. "I told Joe thank you."

"You didn't." My head whipped up at Joe's serene rebuttal.

I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

"There, you did it again!" David complained. "At least I know what that one means."

I slapped a hand over my mouth. My voice came out muffled between my quaking fingers. "I'm speaking Japanese, aren't I?"

Joe nodded.

The explicatives that followed that revelation caused Joe's eyes to widen and several elderly passing Japanese women to look at us with affront, though David just looked more confused.

"What did she say?" he whispered to Joe.

"Never you mind," he whispered back.

My vocabulary was quickly exhausted. I fell back against the grey molded plastic, breathing heavily. Joe and David sat on either side of me, watching my face carefully.

"So, you really didn't know you were speaking Japanese?" Joe ventured carefully when it appeared that I had regained control of myself.

"Obviously not!" I snapped.

David sighed. "Whatever you're saying, Val, say it quieter."

"He's got a point, Val-san."

"Shut up!" Both Joe and David got the message. They were quiet while I struggled to get my pulse back to normal. The adrenaline I could feel pumping through my system wasn't helping much. Eventually, I could feel my breathing slow to somewhere near its typical rate.

"It just…hurts my head to hear English and Japanese at the same time," I finally explained at a bit more reasonable volume. I made a conscious effort to speak in English so that everyone could understand me. It seemed to work: David nodded solemnly while Joe looked thoughtful.

"So all those times you told me to speak in English…. It wasn't because you thought it was rude?"

"No, it was rude." Joe grimaced. "But it also made my brain feel like it was splitting in half."

"Interesting…" Joe leaned across me to face my brother. I tried not to think about his chest merely inches off of my lap as he asked, "What about you, David-kun?"

"I don't think so. I could try," he added doubtfully. He screwed up his face and appeared to be trying to pop a blood vessel instead of speaking a completely foreign language.

Joe laughed. He rose and ruffled my brother's hair almost playfully. "I don't think that'll really work, David-kun, though I'll let you know if you start speaking Russian." He laughed again.

I stared. "What's got you so happy?"

Even my aggravated tone couldn't erase his suddenly buoyant mood. "I'm home! Why wouldn't I be happy."

"Will we get to see you home?" David asked him excitedly, all thought s of my newly-revealed talent forgotten.

I sighed as Joe answered, "Hopefully. Let's grab our luggage first, though. I think I see it coming on the carousel."

"I'll go get it!" With a whoop, he disappeared into the crowd, ducking and weaving with expertise.

Joe chuckled. He sat down again, and for the millionth time I marveled at how he seemed to exude warmth.

"Gomen nasai," he murmured, keeping his eyes on the crowd in front of us.

"What's there to be sorry about? It's not like you cause my meltdown." When he made a face, I immediately grew suspicious. "_Right_?"

"Well, no, but…." He seemed disinclined to answer, but under my wilting stare, he confessed. "I suspected something like this would happen, and maybe if I'd told you—"

"You _knew_ this would happen?!" I interrupted, seething. "And you didn't _tell_ me?!"

"I only suspected. But I thought, maybe being surrounded with the language might force it to come out and—"

"So this is, what, some damn science experiment to you?" I demanded. I jumped up from the seat and began to pace. "I can't believe this! You think you can just move our lives around to suit you, to prove some damn scientific _theory_?! How _dare_ you! I oughta—"

Joe chose that moment to grab my elbow and yank me into my seat. I sat rigidly, afraid to move should I lose control and start a fight in a crowded airport my very first day in a foreign country. He didn't remove his hand from my elbow. It burned against my skin, the only point of heat in my suddenly cold body.

"I would _never_ do that to you or your brother, Valkyrie-san," Joe told me in a heated whisper. His emerald eyes blazed, as hard as diamonds. "Yes, I should have warned you, but I didn't know for sure and I didn't want you to panic!"

"You still should've warned me! I wouldn't have panicked!" Joe raised a skeptical eyebrow. I felt a brief tinge of embarrassment, but my still-hot anger burned it away before it could take hold. Resolutely, I kept my eyes on his. "Okay, maybe I would've panicked. But so what? You wouldn't have had to deal with two stupid tourists for the next few weeks."

Joe frowned. He started to say something, but David chose that moment to stumble practically into my lap. He blinked owlishly up at me. I saw he was lugging a wheeling suitcase in both hands and a bright green duffle around his shoulders like a mutant necklace. My anger dimmed, then went out entirely as I reached out for my baby brother.

"Good God, David! Get those off you, you stupid pack mule!" I must've been speaking Japanese again—his forehead wrinkled in confusion when I started speaking—but he quickly got my meaning as I lifted the surprisingly heavy duffel off of him. He straightened his back with a relieved sigh.

"Can we go now?" David whined, and Joe smiled, all the strain from our conversation disappearing as he stood up to take my brother by the hand.

"Yes. I already took care of customs for you both."

"Really? But I thought that took forever."

Joe winked. "It's all about who you know."

I struggled to my feet, trying to loop the duffel strap around my shoulders. "Hey, guys, wait—" The instant the strap sat on my shoulder, the weight overloaded my scrawny muscles and I pitched head first into David. We tumbled to the ground in a heap of luggage and limbs.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" I tried to get off of him, but only succeeded in entangling myself further in the mess.

I heard a snort. With some effort, I raised my head and saw that Joe had stuffed a fist into his mouth, but that didn't stop his shoulders from shaking with laughter. I started to scowl, but at that moment I lost whatever balance I had and slid completely over my brother. Joe lost the battle and roared. I gave in and laughed, too. David was already in stitches.

We three laughed for a while before Joe finally extended a hand to help me up. I grabbed it gratefully and he easily lifted me upright, despite the duffel bag and the carry-on swinging crazily on my shoulders. He held my hand a little too long, and I felt my cheeks begin to heat under the intensity of his gaze.

"Truce?" he murmured, tucking his fingers under the strap of the duffel.

I looked down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. "Truce."

I couldn't see his grin, but I could hear it in his voice as he said, "Good!" He freed my hand and plucked the bag off of me. I wobbled, but stayed upright.

"Here, let me give you a hand," I heard Joe say to David. I turned and saw that they'd divided up the remaining luggage between them.

"Hey, let me—" I started to protest, but Joe cut me off with a raised hand.

"What sort of gentleman lets a lady carry her own luggage?"

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and tugged. Joe wouldn't let go. "To hell with a gentleman. A _smart_ man would let me carry my own."

Joe appraised me, then acquiesced. "I suppose so. You're not much of a lady, anyway."

"Hey! I resent that!"

David sighed gustily. We stopped our squabbling to look at him. "If you two are done flirting…?" he asked pointedly.

We looked at each other, and I quickly looked away from the amusement in Joe's face. "We weren't flirting," I mumbled. I yanked my suitcase away from Joe and strode towards a door.

Joe laughed and caught up with me. He gently spun me around and nudged me towards a different door. "The exit's that way."

"I knew that." I stalked to the door with David and Joe's laughter ringing in my ears. Despite myself, my lips curved up into a small smile. This was going to be an interesting visit, at the very least.


	16. Chapter 15: Hotels and Honorifics

A/N: Konichiwa! I hope this chapter makes up for the delay. Please, forgive me if how I'm describing this progression would not have happened in real life—I've never been to Japan! I'll plead artistic license and I hope y'all will be content with the story, and not linger on the semantics. Also, Hotel Edoya does, in fact, exist in Tokyo, but it's mostly my own creation. Thanks for understanding!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki-san would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Fifteen: Hotels and Honorifics**_

It was starting to drizzle when we left the airport. I made a face and flipped up the collar of my jacket. Joe tilted his head back, letting the rain drip down his cheeks and hair. A foolish smile appeared. I couldn't help but smile, too, despite the chilly water seeping beneath my jacket.

"Tsuyu," he murmured.

"Plum rains," I translated for David when Joe didn't continue. "It's what they call the early summer rains here."

"Oh." David shifted on the sidewalk, nervous and excited. He sidled closer to me, and I put an arm around his shoulders. I didn't hurry the boys along, despite the fact that I was getting increasingly wet. Actually, the rain felt nice. It felt like it was washing my soul. I breathed deeply. I could smell the green perfume of wet earth mingled with the fresh scent of the plum rains, and it was the sweetest combination imaginable.

Eventually, the pointed stares of passersby forced us to begin to move away from the door. Joe led us to the main entrance and straight to an idling black car. David and I watched curiously while a uniformed man climbed out of the driver's seat to bow to Joe. The driver spoke briefly. Joe answered.

"What're they saying?" David whispered to me.

I snorted. "I can speak Japanese—not read lips."

Before too long, Joe waved us forward. The driver was just entering the main lobby of the airport when we got to the car. He held up the car key like it was a trophy. "Let's go."

It took a while to actually leave, despite the increasing tempo of the rain on the pavement as incentive. It was a smaller car, and even with only two suitcases and a duffel to pack into the trunk, it took more than a little elbow grease to get the luggage wedged in well enough to close the trunk.

We piled into the car quickly, and it took me a moment to realize that somehow Joe had ended up in the driver's seat and I was in the very back.

He caught sight of my disgruntled face in the mirror as he backed slowly out of the lineup. "Something wrong, Val-san?"

"Yeah." I crossed my arms across my chest. My jacket squelshed, ejecting water droplets. "How come you get to drive?"

"English!" David interjected from the passenger's seat. I sighed and repeated my question.

"Because," Joe said slowly as he maneuvered through traffic, "I know how to drive."

"And you think I can't?"

"Frankly, I'm terrified to find out."

"Joe can drive, Val!" David chirped. "It's not that big a deal."

I rolled my eyes. "That's not really the point, David."

"Oh?" Joe flicked his turn signal on. "And what exactly _was_ your point?"

"That you didn't even _ask_ if I wanted to drive!"

"But you don't know where we're going." He checked his mirrors before pulling in front of a fish delivery truck.

I pouted. "You could've told me at the airport."

"It wouldn't have meant anything to you if I had; you don't know how to get there."

My lower lip jutted out even further. "You could've given me directions."

Joe eyed my reflection briefly. He startled me by laughing. "Do you know how cute you are when you sulk like that?" He'd spoken in Japanese, words for my ears only.

My cheeks turned crimson. I had absolutely no rebuttal, not even when David asked, "Wow, Joe, what did you _say_?"

Joe had the gull to wink at me before replying casually, "I complimented her."

David grinned. "That'd do it."

Stupid boys. I ignored them for the rest of the trip, watching the rain and the buildings run past my window.

* * *

It took maybe two hours before we got wherever we were going. By the time we arrived, I was thoroughly grateful that Joe had driven. It was a difficult place to find, but it seemed worth it.

The buildings had shrunk considerably from the skyscrapers earlier in the trip. There were still houses and signs and people, but it was considerably less urban and more residential. Students—identifiable by their uniforms—and businesspeople with briefcases and cell phones juggled umbrellas as they navigated the crowded sidewalks. Bright shadows moved in the windows of what I assumed were bars and other rowdy restaurants. Odd, that the restaurants were rowdy—from what I knew of the Japanese people and what I had observed during the trip, the Japanese were a rather serious people.

I might've looked right passed our destination if Joe hadn't turned onto a small side street. There was a tiny parking lot with two cars and room for maybe two more, as well as a roof, making the parking lot a dry island in the rain. Joe parked in front of a stone-covered wall where a beautifully carved wooden door was situated at the top of a stone stoop. An electric lamp clicked on when we stepped out of the car, and I was mildly shocked at the modern accessory: it seemed out of place with the tranquil, ancient atmosphere the place seemed to exude.

"Where are we?" David asked eagerly as he yanked his backpack out of the car.

"Hotel Edoya," I read off of a discrete metal placard by the door. I turned to Joe, raising my eyebrow.

"It's a ryokan," Joe said. He fished a piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to me. I scanned it quickly while Joe explained to David, "A ryokan is a traditional Japanese inn. I thought it might be nice for your first night here."

Now both of my eyebrows rose to disappear in my bangs. "Five _thousand_ yen? Per _person_? This is way too expensive."

Joe's mouth twitched. "That's about forty-six dollars, Val-san."

I felt a confusing mix of relief and embarrassment. "Oh, well, it's still too much."

He shrugged. "It's for two meals and a place to sleep that isn't the car. I think that's more than reasonable."

"But that's…" I tried to do some quick mental arithmetic. "Like, one hundred and twenty bucks!"

Joe sighed and walked over, laying a hand on my shoulder. He seemed to be doing that a lot in the last day. I half-heartedly twitched to dislodge it. "It's actually one hundred and thirty-two dollars. But don't worry about it."

"But…!" I couldn't let Joe pay that much!

But he would have none of it. Joe placed his other hand on my opposite shoulder and steered me towards the door. "Stop arguing and go in." David was already raising the elegant brass lion knocker.

"Fine." I moved forward with my arms across my chest. I might have to give in, but I didn't need to like it.

Joe walked behind me. I could practically feel his silent laughter at my snit. David let the knocker go, and it fell against the metal plate with a sharp tick. The door opened immediately. I looked, but I couldn't see anyone right away. A small movement drew my gaze lower, and I saw a lovely young woman dressed in a kimono bowing to us.

"Konbanwa," she murmured.

"Good evening," I muttered out of the corner of my mouth to my brother, who was staring at her open-mouthed. Her face was pale and serene, but her smile was warm and certainly echoed the welcome in her words.

Joe came forward and bowed as well, though not as low as she. I realized that we were expected to bow, too, so I quickly put my hands on the sides of my thighs and leaned forward, catching David in the gut with a fast elbow-jab so he'd get the hint. He ducked his head, unsure despite our examples. I rolled my eyes as I followed Joe's lead and came upright. We'd have to work on his manners.

"I believe we have reservations?" Joe inquired. He was speaking in Japanese, and I didn't bother to translate for David despite his pointed look at me: it wasn't worth the effort.

"Ah, yes. Nushi-san, would you and your…" She faltered. Her eyes roamed over David and me.

I sensed she was looking for a diplomatic term for us, and I supplied, "Friends."

"Of course." She bowed to me. "If you and your friends would please come in, Nushi-san?" She stepped back from the door to allow us room to enter.

"You are most kind, Okami-san." Joe bowed again and motioned for David and me to enter first. David looked at the door nervously. I rolled my eyes and walked briskly through the door, nodding politely to the woman before I looked around.

The lobby of the ryokan was warm and inviting, with honey woods and amber-painted walls. Reeds and twigs rose gracefully from their ceramic ikebana vases, carefully placed to provide conversation points. A silkscreen of Mount Fuji was placed at the back of the room. The wood flooring was as light as the furniture—I suspected it was bamboo—and the occasional ornate Oriental rug made an elegant foil to the simplicity from the rest of the decorations. I heard a deliberate trickle of water from a hidden fountain. The smell of rain floated into the room to mix with the citrus scent of the cleaners.

I smiled. This would do.

I was interrupted from my inspection as Joe and David stepped into the room. The okami closed the door softly behind us, and led the way to a large built-in counter on the right that I hadn't even noticed before. "Your room is prepared for you, Nushi-san. Would you like to rest here?"

Joe shot a look at me, and I mimed extreme exhaustion, stopping the instant the okami turned in my direction with a mildly curious look. "No, thank you. I believe we'd like to be shown straight to the room."

The attendant bowed behind the counter. "Of course. Tanaka-san will show you where you will stay," she said, motioning to a subdued young woman who had been waiting in the shadows.

The girl bowed first to the okami, then to us. "Welcome to Hotel Edoya. I am happy to serve you." Her voice was soft and cultured. Despite her plain robe and sash, she was gorgeous. I suddenly felt like a hulking giant, standing and dripping in the lobby in a sweater and jeans.

"Thank you, nakai-san," Joe replied seriously with yet another bow. The attendant turned and led us through a carved sliding door into a dim hallway. Calligraphy blessings for luck and good fortune were framed and hung between the different doors. They were not labeled with any system that I could discern, yet the girl stopped beside a door that was obviously supposed to be our room.

"This is your room, honored guests," the attendant said, and I refrained from rolling my eyes. _Thanks for stating the obvious,_ I thought cynically.

Joe nodded. "We'll be fine, nakai-san." We all bowed together, and I wondered how we didn't conk heads. The Japanese must do this so much that they can avoid two clumsy foreigner's efforts to be polite.

The girl turned to leave. Suddenly, David spoke: "Arigatou!"

She turned back to face us with a surprised expression. David was smiling sheepishly. "I just wanted to be nice," he stage-whispered to me in English.

Joe chuckled. "Forgive us for our rudeness, nakai-san. David-kun has reminded us of our manners. Arigatou, Tanaka-san."

The maid smiled, but quickly hid it with a raised hand. The corners of her eyes were crinkled. "You're welcome, honored guest." With a final bow, she glided away down the corridor.

"Well, if we're all done bowing…" I grumbled once she was gone. I grabbed the edge of the sliding door and pulled. It rolled smoothly away on its track, and I walked into the room without a backward glance.

David and Joe followed me inside. It was a pretty room, done in a rich forest green with deep blue fabrics and cast iron accents. There were two low beds, all made and ready for sleeping, and I thanked my lucky stars that we weren't sleeping on the floor on futons. There was a large wall-length window that was across from our beds. A low table with equally low chairs was arranged in the center of the room. Our luggage was already standing at the foot of the beds.

David yelped with joy and raced for a bed. He started jumping on it before I could tell him to get the hell off it, and he looked so happy that I just shook my head and let him go. It wasn't like he had far to fall if he actually did manage to bounce off of the wide bed.

Joe chuckled. "I suppose that's his bed." He spoke in English for David's benefit, and I appreciated not being forced to play translator any more.

"Guess so." My eyes wandered to the table again, where I could see a meal had already been prepared. I felt a hunger headache brewing between my eyes.

Joe followed my gaze. "We can eat now, if you'd like to. I asked the hotel staff to just leave us food instead of serving us. I thought you'd be more comfortable."

"They'd do that?" David wheezed as he bounced to a sitting position on the edge of the mattress.

Joe nodded. "Typically, we are served both a light snack and the evening meal by our room attendant." When David still looked confused, he added, "The girl who showed us our room. You call her 'Nakai-san' when you speak to her."

"Okay." David thought for a minute. "Then who was the lady we met first?"

"She was the okami, the hostess of the ryokan." Joe sat gracefully into one of the four chairs, rearranging one of the movable armrests so he could rest his elbow comfortably. "The whole point of a ryokan is to provide a comfortable, easy experience for us, the guests. The okami makes sure that everything is perfect."

David plopped into the chair next to Joe, trying to decipher this new information. "But it can't be perfect, not really. Can it?"

Joe chuckled. "You'd be surprised." He looked up at me. "Aren't you sitting down?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah, of course." I awkwardly folded my limbs into a sitting position. After a minute, I pulled an armrest over so that I could have something to keep me from falling sideways. "What's there to eat?"

"I don't know."

I smirked. "What, the almighty Joe Nushi doesn't know something?"

He flashed a smile. "I know the important things."

"And those would be?"

David interrupted by huffing loudly. "I don't know which is more annoying: you two flirting when I can't understand you, or when you do it in English."

I glared at him. "We're not flirting, okay? Get over it!"

"Sure, whatever." David rolled his eyes (Seriously, who had taught him that? It was so damn aggravating!) and grabbed his chopsticks eagerly.

I eyed my brother like he'd just grabbed a loaded pistol. "Do you even know how to eat with those things?"

David grinned. "Sure! Joe taught me."

"So he taught you how to eat with chopsticks, but not Japanese, huh?" I didn't give Joe time for a comeback. "And that's Joe-san, David. We're in Japan now. Even if you can't speak Japanese, you can at least use honorifics."

"Honor-whatsis?"

"Honorifics." Joe idly correctly David's hold on the chopsticks while he explained. "They're like 'Miss' or 'Mister' in English. It's how you show politeness when addressing people by their name."

David's eyes sparkled with the new information. I hid a grin. "So you're Joe-san?"

"You could probably call me Joe-kun—that's a little less formal."

"Ohh—like how you call me David-kun!" David beamed, proud of himself for figuring that out. "What do I call Val, then, Joe-kun?"

"Val's just fine, David," I said quickly. "You don't need to give me a title."

"But it's not just a title," Joe quietly protested. "It's a sign of respect. And you have lots of respect for your sister, don't you, David-kun?"

"Tons," David agreed.

"Fine." I made my chopsticks snap in front of his face. "Val-chan is fine."

"Chan?"

I sighed. "It's the least formal honorific. Only family members and very close friends use it, generally."

"And combined with a nickname, it's especially informal," Joe put in.

"So let me get this straight." David scrunched up his face. I could practically see him lining up the information in his mind. "I call you Joe-kun because you're a good friend, right? And I call Valkyrie Val-chan because she's my sister."

"Actually, you could call her 'older sister' in Japanese," Joe mused. "That's more traditional."

"But Val-chan's great, David," I interrupted firmly. "That 'older sister' stuff makes me feel old."

"We wouldn't want that, of course," Joe mocked mildly.

I pierced him with a glare. "No. We wouldn't."

He bowed slightly. "As you wish."

I pushed away from the table so fast that the armrests fell. "You're damn right it's how I wish it. Don't forget it." I stalked away from the table and stomped out of the room.

Tanaka was just walking by when I stalked out of the room. She quickly stopped to bow. "Honored guest, is there something I can do for you?"

I didn't even bow in reply. "Yes, actually. Where are the baths?" The crumpled paperwork I'd scanned in the parking lot had boasted of fabulous indoor baths. They looked like a heated pool in the picture.

"This way, honored guest."

I managed enough courtesy to summon up a smile and a tiny bow. "Arigatou, nakai-san."

* * *

It was dark before I returned to our room. I had spent several hours soaking in the luxurious bath. It was public, but there were no other female guests who wanted to bathe when I was in there. (Either that, or Tanaka had warned them to enter at their own risk.) I was as wrinkled as a ninety-year-old woman, and feeling much better. I'd convinced the bath attendant to bring me a simple dinner of a bowl of plain white rice, and I'd taken my time eating.

The bath attendant had also brought me a simple yakata to wear, along with wooden geta sandals. It was in these that I was now walking around in. I slid the door open carefully, aware that David had probably conked out by now, and stepped into the room.

A warm hand closed over my mouth while another twisted my arms painfully behind my back. I squeaked and froze. What the hell?

Just as quickly as I'd been seized, I was released. I took a deep breath and stared around in the dark to find who had grabbed me.

The drapes suddenly pulled back a bit—not allowing any light to fall directly on the beds, I noticed, but enough to see by—and I could make out Joe's profile.

"Nushi, you idiot!" I hissed. Joe grit his teeth when I used his last name, but at that point I didn't care anymore. I was pissed. "What the hell were you _thinking_?"

"I was _thinking_," Joe hissed back, "that you were an attacker!"

"No, that would be you." I rubbed my arms. "Ow. That really hurt, you muscle-bound jerk!"

"Sorry." But his face wasn't in the least apologetic.

"Seriously, Nushi! Why did you think that someone would try to attack us?" I snorted. "We're just a bunch of lousy tourists."

"I promised your mother I'd take care of you," Joe shot back. "Where were you?"

I motioned impatiently to my robe. "Taking a bath, Warden. Would you like to know how long I ate my rice tonight, too?"

He ignored my sarcasm. "You will tell me where you're going at all times."

"Like hell I will! You're not my damn jail keeper!"

"I don't know what I am to you, Valkyrie!"

"Shhhh!" I looked anxiously over at the layered shadows in the corner. "You're gonna wake David, you idiot."

Joe also looked over, but he whipped his eyes back to meet mine. "You're in a place you've never been before, surrounded by a culture that you don't understand, with strangers at every turn! Do you not understand that, Valkyrie?"

"Right, like Tanaka was going to do away with me in the bath!" I scoffed

He ran a hair through his hair angrily. I'd never seen him as agitated as he was now. "I didn't know what was going on! I didn't know where you were or who you were with or—!" He rubbed a hand across his face in frustration. "Do you know how much effort it took to stay here and pretend like everything was okay so that David-kun wouldn't panic?"

"Everything _was_ okay, Nushi! You were just overreacting and being your normal overbearing, controlling self!" I was practically vibrating with anger. It was only David's sleeping presence that prevented me from striking the arrogant man standing in front of me.

"And _you_ were being foolhardy and stubborn, you arrogant witch!"

I gasped. "Did you just call me a _witch_? How _dare_ you!"

I didn't think. I just did it. I poked him in the chest with my index finger. What the hell I expected it to do, I didn't know, but I certainly didn't expect what happened next.

Heat coursed through my fingertip and jolted my system, but I didn't have time to think about that as Joe suddenly grabbed my arm and pinned me against the window. I was vaguely surprised that the glass didn't break from the impact. The majority of my attention, though, was on Joe.

He was breathing hard, as if he had just finished running a marathon. His chest heaved and nearly brushed against mine. I was hyper-aware that all I was wearing was a flimsy robe and nothing else—the bath attendant had taken my clothes for a complimentary cleaning. Joe's eyes were narrowed and staring into mine. It was like the first day of school all over again, exactly the same, and it scared me, the depth of those eyes. I frantically wondered what in the world this perfect thing could possibly see in me, that he was staring at me for so long. But I couldn't get the breath to ask him; I could only stare back helplessly.

"I'll dare a hell of a lot more than that," he whispered fiercely, and before I could stop him, his mouth smashed against mine.

It was…warm. Warm and fierce. I had never thought that a mere kiss—a mere touching of lips—could be this violent, this electric. My eyes were open and so were Joe's as he moved his mouth in ways that I had never imagined they could move. Soon, the heat was so intense that I had to close my eyes against it. I felt my body go limp, and as I sagged, Joe broke away.

I swayed when he left my side—I hadn't realized how much I'd been leaning on him. I flattened both my palms against the glass to keep from falling over. I slowly opened my eyes, and saw Joe staring at me with wide eyes. He was several steps away and white as death.

I found my voice, or what was left of it. "Well. That was different."

My attempt at humor fell flat, but Joe smiled like it was funny anyway. "I told you not to call me Nushi."

"Don't call me a witch, then."

"You called me Nushi first."

"You were being a prick!"

He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it, shaking his head and smiling slightly. "You are right, Val-san. Gomen nasai."

I considered his apology. When I thought the silence had gone on long enough, I said, "Val-kun."

He looked at me sharply. "Nani?"

"Val-kun." I swallowed. Carefully, like I was walking on broken glass, I stepped forward until I was right in front of him. "I figure, formality kinda goes out the window when you k-kiss someone." My voice broke, and I flushed in embarrassment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mouth lift in a half-smile. He reached out a hand like he was going to touch my cheek, but he checked himself. "Go on to bed now, Val-san." He turned away from me. "Sleep well."

I thought about staying there anyway and forcing the issue, but it was late, and after all, David was asleep. I had no idea what would happen if I argued with him more that night, and I wasn't sure I was really ready to know. I sighed and turned to the bed. "Good night, Joe."

Silence. I was in bed and nearly asleep before I head his voice again: "Val-san?"

"Hai?"

"Nice yukata."

I ripped a pillow from beneath my head and threw it at the pervert.


	17. Chapter 16: Revelations

A/N: It's raining cats and dogs here, which means I'm writing this at the perfect time. Actually, I've had this chapter (or at least a particular scene) written for ages. You'll know which one it is soon enough. (You might want to whip out the beginning of Spirited Away soon to really get an idea of where they are—check YouTube. Just a suggestion. )

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki-san would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Sixteen: Revelations**_

My eyes snapped open.

I had time to think, _I'm gonna hurl_! before my dinner came screaming out my mouth onto the beautiful navy blue bedspread. Thank God it'd just been rice and water.

David silently handed me a towel. It was soaking wet. I grimaced—it was going to leave spots on the comforter, but hell, it was already ruined—and took it gratefully.

I glanced at Joe, where he was sitting up from his sleeping nest on the couch. It was obvious that he was shocked and concerned, but he was doing a heroic job in his attempt to keep that hidden. I tried to grin.

"And _that_ is why I don't eat close to bedtime," I joked weakly. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

If anything, that blasé comment just made him whiter. "What happened?"

I sighed. "Do you want the long version or the short one?"

"Either."

"David, you want to explain it?"

He nodded while I reached for my journal and clicked a ballpoint pen, wiping off my face and hand with the dripping towel. "She dreams she dies every night."

Joe stared at me. "Every night."

It wasn't a question, but I decided to treat it like it was anyway. (Call me contrary.) I pretended to think, tapping the tip of the pen against my chin. "There might've been a few dreams where I kill myself instead of waiting for it, but yeah, that's just about right."

I cocked my head, watching his reaction. He certainly seemed surprised enough to hear about it; maybe David hadn't told him that day in the office, after all.

Surprised or not, he handled the news surprisingly well. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? The psycho-people certainly don't." I kicked the blanket-and-puke mess into a ball at the foot of my bed and began scribbling down my dream.

"She writes in her journal every day," David whispered conspiratorially to Joe. I rolled my eyes but didn't interrupt, intent on my scrawling handwriting blooming across the page. "It's the only thing that seems to help. Before the journal, she'd be all freaky for the whole day, twitchy-like."

"Like that's any different from how I am now?" I teased him lightly. Glancing over my page, I saw that in my haste, I'd substituted several Japanese characters in place of my usual English. Frowning, I scribbled them out and rewrote them.

"This isn't funny!" Joe snapped. I raised to look at him properly: he was still ashen-faced, and he had the strangest tortured expression on his face. "How can you-you _live_ like this?"

I finished my final sentence with a flourish and closed the journal with a snap. "I manage. Now, what's on the agenda for today?"

My voice was quite upbeat for my emotional state. All I wanted to do was find some secluded bath and scrub myself until my skin bled. Maybe then I'd be clean. Last night, I hadn't been able to talk sense into No-Face, and I could still feel the oily slick flesh of his rancid throat contracting around my body as he swallowed me whole. I shivered, hoping that the movement was too minute to notice.

I must have succeeded, because with a twitch, Joe seemed to pull himself back together. "We're going for a picnic, actually."

"A picnic?" David screwed up his face in typical kid disgust of such a tame adventure. His childish aversion to sedated activities was so refreshing that it washed away the final remnants of my dream.

"Sure, David, but it's a picnic in _Japan_. That's way cooler than any dumb picnic in America," I reassured him.

His eyes brightened. "You're right!"

Joe and I laughed at his enthusiasm. At my request, David raced around the room, making sure we had everything. I folded up the comforter and laid it on the end of the bed. I was looking around for a scrap of paper to leave a note for the room maid when Joe's hand pushed an already-folded note addressed to the maid into my line of vision.

"Arigatou, Joe-san."

"No problem, Val," he replied quietly.

I smiled at his intentional usage of English to contrast my Japanese. Turning to face him, I saw that he was still a little bit paler than usual. "Funny, isn't it? How we're changing."

"Oh?" Joe looked at me curiously. "Is that an _us_ 'we,' or an _individual_ 'we?'"

I flushed, looking down at his chest. He really was quite well built for a teenager. "Individual we. Take, for example, the fact that I can intentionally speak Japanese now, instead of it just slipping out every now and then. Oh, and the fact that I don't want to kill you anymore, of course."

"You wanted to kill me? I had _no idea_."

I mock-glared at him. "Don't be sarcastic."

"Honestly, though, you really did want to kill me? I just thought you didn't like me."

His emerald eyes peered into mine, reminding me so much of _his _and the reasons for my early antagonism.

I closed my eyes and whispered, "You look like an acquaintance of mine. And I wanted—want," I corrected roughly, "I _want_ him to suffer, like I suffered. Like I do suffer, every damn night. But that's silly, right? It's crazy, because he doesn't exist." Tears leaked from beneath my lids and oozed down my cheeks. I continued despite them. "He doesn't even exist, and I love him. And hate him. I love and hate him. But he's not real. He can't be real. It can't be real. My dreams, my feelings, everything—it's not real. Damn, I'm in love with a figment of my frickin' imagination!"

I laughed wetly. God, I was hysterical, now. "Does that even make sense? Or is that crazy, too?"

Joe was silent for a time. My eyes were still shut tight, so I couldn't see his expression, but I could feel him shaking. With anger? Confusion? Guilt? I had no way of knowing, but I didn't ask. Eventually, I felt his arms wrap around my shoulders, and I rested my head on his chest with a weary sigh.

"No," he whispered in my ear. "That makes all the sense in the world. I'm so sorry, Hiver-san."

Hesitantly, carefully, I placed my arms around his back to hug him. He was so warm that he seemed to burn everything away until I felt clean and safe.

We stood like that for a while, arms around each other. David eventually cleared his throat. "Um, guys? Are we going or what?"

I yelped and jumped backward. Joe let me go without any resistance. "And my name would be Val-kun, Joe-kun," I reminded him sharply, my silly sentimental moment gone with the return of my usual ire. "Stop it with the formalities!"

He just looked at me. I could see frustration and anger and sorrow mixing in his expression, though I had no idea why he should be feeling any of those. "No," he said a little sadly. "It's not."

And I had the strangest feeling that he wasn't talking about the honorific.

* * *

After Joe had arranged for three bento boxes to be packed for our lunch and after I insisted on paying for the damages to the bed (despite Joe's disapproval as macho-man provider for the group), we left the ryokan in the rental car. Joe silently took the driver's seat, and I did not say a word.

David, on the other hand, would not shut up.

"So where're we going, Joe-kun? I thought we were going to the Hiroshima Memorial today. That's what you said we were going to do today on the plane. 'Member, Joe? You said we were going to take a tour of that park, 'member? On the plane? But why're we doing a picnic, instead? Why?"

When David finally took a breath, Joe firmly placed a hand over his mouth. I silently applauded the tactic. "Are you going to let me speak or not?"

David nodded, eyes wide over Joe's fingers. Joe removed his hand. "Yes, that had been the plan for today, but there was a" —Did David notice the hesitation, or was it just me?— "change in the plan. Besides, it's a perfect day for a picnic, ne?"

David stared skeptically out of the windshield. "Doesn't look like it to me."

Joe laughed. "Trust me; it'll be perfect."

And I wondered at the total confidence in his voice.

* * *

It was an hour or more before Joe turned off of the main road. It was clearing up as Joe parked the car where the asphalt ended and a dirt road began, overgrown with disuse. The sun felt warm on my skin as I stretched lazily. David's pealing laughter echoed in my ears, warming my heart.

We weren't too far from civilization. There were houses on the hill above us. Cars scuttled like little worker ants on the road below. But here, in between, there was no evidence of people. No sound floated to us on the slight breeze besides the slight soughing of the leaves in the great tree that grew on the side of the road. An old torii gate was propped against the trunk, hemmed in by a flood of what looked like stone birdhouses.

I shivered.

David saw my movement. "Nani, Val-chan?"

His little voice broke the silence, and I laughed a little too loudly, eager to chase away the last bits of discomfort that lurked in the tree's massive shadow. "That was perfect, David! I'm fine, honey." I hugged him, burying my face into his hair. It smelled like summer sun and dust.

He put up with my girly moment for a second or two, then squirmed free of my embrace. "Let's go!" He grabbed my hand and tugged me down the road.

With David at my side, my comforting anchor to reality, the strangest didn't exist. It was just a forest, and an old dirt road, and a friend standing there, waiting for us to catch up to him. It wasn't a forest, and a road, and a dragon.

That last thought made me shiver again with fear and exasperation, despite David's small hand clasped in mine. _How stupid!_ I berated myself. I hadn't thought of Joe that way in forever!

But the conversation that very morning had rekindled some of my old fears of my friend. And now, I feared, they would not be so quick to die.

David didn't notice the slight tremor. He yanked on my hand, and I followed him, trying desperately to focus on his excited yammering.

"—And Joe-kun, what're those carvings? They look kinda funny."

Joe chuckled. "They're the homes of local spirits. You can make offerings to them, to placate the evil spirits and to ask for good luck from the nice ones."

"Can we leave an offering, Joe-kun?"

"Not today. C'mon, let's go." He strode down the forest road. David let go of my hand to chase after him, yelling like a banshee.

I chuckled and followed them slowly, very carefully not looking at the ape-like statues that leered at me through their blankets of moss and weeds.

And before I knew it, we were there.

David chittered excitedly, orbiting the weird statue that stood in the middle of the road in front of a dilapidated red archway. Joe leaned against it casually, presumably waiting for me. I quickened my pace and caught up to them.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

Joe rose fluidly to take the basket that I had been carrying with our lunches in it. "No problem. It was nice to take a break." He surreptitiously pointed at my brother and rolled his eyes, making me laugh.

"Yeah, it's a bit like owning a puppy. And just imagine," I teased as we walked into the cool shadow of the building, "you'll get to put up with him for a whole three weeks."

Joe smiled, but I could sense that his mind was elsewhere. I gently touched his hand. "What's wrong, Joe-kun?"

He winced when I said his name. "Nothing. Nothing at all." He saw my brother racing ahead into the dark beyond where the weak morning light filtered in through the doorway and jogged forward. His voice bounced back to me: "Hey, David-kun! Wait for your sister!"

I laughed and ran down the hall, half to catch up to them and half to escape the place more quickly. I burst into sunshine and grass, completely out of breath. David and Joe were waiting for me, a little ways down a gravel path. David scampered down the hill to dance around me, talking excitedly.

"Isn't this cool, Val? It's an abandoned theme park, Joe-kun told me, and it's all ours today! Look at all this grass, Val! How pretty is this!" He spied a clump of daisies and descended on them, ripping one up by the roots to present to me.

I eyed the dirt dripping off of the flower with distaste. Quickly, I bent the stem in the middle and ripped it apart, letting the roots fall to the ground. "Arigatou, David-kun."

David beamed and grabbed my other hand, towing me up the hill. We arrived to where Joe was standing, watching us. I grinned at him before turning around to look at the park. My heart skipped a beat, but that was my only external reaction. I was too shocked to move.

It was my dream come alive.

The buildings, the cobblestone paths, the stone-filled riverbed in the small valley—everything was exactly as it should be. My eyes skimmed past the signs and the limp flags. It was odd, seeing them when it was so light out. You could see the grass springing up between the cracks of split concrete, and some of the buildings were so broken-down that you could peer through the cracks of one wall and see through to the other side, even at this distance. They appeared to be ghosts of their former selves, actually. (No pun intended, of course.)

It looked more like…well, like an abandoned theme park than a bustling spirit oasis. I allowed myself to breathe again. Just because it _resembled_ my dream didn't mean it _was_ my dream, right?

Right?

The breeze caught the leaves of a tree on a nearby hill. I turned to look at it with a frown. That wasn't right.

David was still laughing and talking to us, though I hadn't heard a word he'd said since we'd gotten here. He stopped, looking at Joe expectantly. When Joe nodded, he whooped and raced away towards the riverbed.

With David gone, I felt my tension returning. To escape it, I began to walk to the tree that I'd seen. Joe fell into step beside me. No one spoke.

There was a small stone shrine beneath the tree. It looked just like the ones from earlier, except that it was obviously newer than those ancient ones. The grass around it was clipped nicely, and the petals of a fresh bouquet of flowers were ruffling in the gentle breeze.

I knelt beside the shrine, peering at the carved markings that ran up the side. I read the characters aloud, my voice interrupting the quiet.

"Ogino Chihiro."

I leaned back and saw Joe staring at the small shrine. I remembered with a pang of sympathy and excitement (Excitement? What the…?) our conversation in his room when he was sick.

"It's your friend Chihiro, right?"

He nodded without taking his eyes off of the shrine.

"Oh."

I looked back at the shrine. I felt a sudden urge to touch it, to run my hand across the cool, smooth stone. Weird, sure, but why not?

My free hand was reaching towards the shrine when a shriek split the air. It froze my hand in mid-reach, and my heart literally stopped.

It was coming from David.

I didn't know that I could run as fast as I did at that instant. My feet tore at the grass, ignoring the pain shooting up my thighs from the sprint. My hands were curled into fists, crushing the delicate daisy that David had given me just moments before. _Not David, not David, please, God, not David!_

Despite my speed, it was Joe who got to him first. He was lying face down in the cobblestone street, completely motionless. When Joe gently turned him over, I saw that he was breathing, but barely, and his face was white as ice.

My blood ran cold, despite my pounding pulse.

"What's wrong with him?" My heart now fluttering like I had swallowed a bird and it was now stuck in my throat. I couldn't force my legs to move any further, and so I watched as Joe carried my baby brother into the shade.

He sat down and held David close to his chest, cradling him as if he weighed no more than a baby, though David was at least a hundred pounds. "Yubaba's got his spirit."

"Yubaba's got his spirit? How the hell did that happen?!" My worry morphed into anger. "He didn't eat a thing! He just walked in here! He wasn't disrespectful to anyone – hell, he hasn't spoken to anyone because he knows he speaks Japanese like crap!"

"Why didn't you teach him?" Joe looked over his shoulder at me, and I tried to ignore the jolt in my stomach.

"Don't even start," I snapped. "You know that I didn't know that I could speak the damn language, even if you did. Besides, I really thought _you_ were going to teach him."

Joe looked at my brother in his arms. He smiled a little. "I tried a little on the plane, actually. I wasn't a very good teacher. Not patient enough."

I snorted. "I sincerely doubt that."

Joe didn't answer me, though I saw his hands trembling a little. He laid David out on a nearby table, and I felt another pang of worry when I saw anew how pale my baby brother was. I didn't have time to study him fully, though, because Joe rounded on me with a fierce scowl.

"Doubt it? How can you doubt it? You know me, Valkyrie! I am less than patient with everyone, including you."

Little alarm bells started ringing in my head, softly at first, but quickly they crescendoed into a cacophony of shrill panic. I saw the traces of frustration and anger that I'd seen earlier blooming into full rage. Still staring into Joe's brilliant emerald eyes, I began to back up until my back hit the side of an empty vendor's stall. "What are you talking about, Joe? You're the most patient person I know, putting up with my crap and David and all those girls. And anyway," I added, remembering something he'd said, "how the hell do you know about Yubaba? She's not…"

"Real?" Joe sneered. He strode up to me until he was a mere foot away, his face red with rage. I looked up into his face and realized that I didn't need to look at him to know what he looked like. I could close my eyes and perfectly trace the contours of his face from memory. In fact, if I was going to be honest (if only in my mind), I could have done so the very first day he showed up at my school, because I had been looking at that face since I was ten years old.

"What do you know about real, Valkyrie Hiver?" he continued bitterly. "You've been deluding yourself for over seven years. You've tried to make yourself forget this place, the people, what happened, convincing yourself it wasn't real, it was all in your head. Guess what? Play time's over, Val-san, it's time to grow up and face the music. You've got to go back to save your brother, and _you don't know how anymore_."

I was shaking my head, back and forth, so slowly. "What are you talking about, Joe?" I whispered.

Joe laughed, a bitter sound that made my heart tear to hear it. "Call me by my real name, Val-san." He grabbed my arms so hard that I squeaked. "What is my name, Valkyrie Mary Hiver? I know yours; you know mine. Say it!" He shook me, as if he could force me to admit that I knew who he was – who he _really_ was.

I tried to make my tongue move, but I couldn't. This, too, was frighteningly familiar – when dreams lock your body up so tight that you're a prisoner in your own body, so that the crucial moment passes and you can't do anything to make it right.

The moment was passing as I hung in his grip. I could see the fiery anger in Joe's eyes fizzle and fade until it was nearly gone, replaced with a matte despair. I slowly slid from his hands and he remained still, still looking into my face as if he was going to pull the confession from my eyes from pure force of will.

"Say my name," he said, pleading with me now. "I can't help you if you don't admit you know who I am. Who you are. Where we are."

"…I can't." And I couldn't. If I admitted that I knew what Joe was talking about, if I confessed that I knew that Joe really wasn't human, then my dreams – my nightmares – my delusions – were all real, and I couldn't handle that. If they were real, I had no hope of getting David back, and I couldn't face that.

With that single sentence, Joe's face shut down. It was as if I was looking at a statue of a demigod, so breathtakingly perfect and dead it looked. "I guess I was wrong, then." He started to walk away.

I slid to my knees and stared at Joe's back. It was getting smaller as I watched Joe –

As I watched _Haku_ walk away from me for the very last time.

One by one, one step by one step, all my doubts fell away. _Joe was Haku_. I had known it from the start, but I had pushed that certainty away because it made me scared. More than me being upset that he wouldn't save me, I was scared to see the truth. Like every other thought that I didn't like, I'd pushed it aside so that I wouldn't be afraid.

I had been running away from the truth. Was I too scared to admit it, now?

Yes, Haku was real. That meant this place, the bathhouse, Rin, Yubaba, Kamajii, No-Face, the spirits – they were _real_. The dangers that I faced every night in my dreams were _real _now. Death and greed and pain – they would be _real_, if I faced the facts right now. Hell, it would still be real for my brother, even if I didn't force myself to admit it.

But why did I think that, if the danger was real and the adventure real, there was no hope to save David? Had I been going through seven years of hell to turn tail and run when confronted with the opportunity to beat it back, once and for all? This is what I'd been training to do, after all. No one was more qualified than I to save David. Was I going to let my chance to finally end the nightmare walk away? Was I going to let _him_ walk away?

"Wait!" I called, scrambling to my knees. Haku slowed, but then continued walking.

"Please." He didn't even slow this time.

"Please…Haku…stop," I whispered, and held my breath. If it was Haku—of course it was Haku! How could I doubt it?—he'd hear me.

Haku stopped.

Turning back to me, I couldn't read his face; he was too far away. His voice came out a little strangled. "I'm sorry?"

I let out a watery chuckle. Even in extraordinary circumstances, he was unfailingly polite. "Haku. Nigihayami Kohaku Nushi**.**" Maybe if I confessed his full name, he might stay."I – I'm sorry." I couldn't look at his frozen form any longer. I turned to my brother, still lying as if he was dead on the table. The apologies kept coming, even when I told them to stop: "I'm sorry I didn't believe in the dreams, in you, but I was scared, and I'm still scared, but I need to get David the hell out of there, and God, I'm scared, what do I do…?" My voice cracked and I fell to my knees once more.

My tongue tasted salt. I licked my lips and found moisture. More tears? I thought I'd cried enough this morning.

As soon as I realized that I was crying, it was as if a dam inside me had broken. I couldn't hold them back – the tears flooded my eyes and spilled across my cheeks. I tilted my head back and felt the sun splash across my head. It was warm on my skin. _That's not right,_ I thought numbly. _Why is there warmth? David's gone. Everything should be cold._

A weight even warmer than the sun draped itself around my shoulders, and suddenly I was jerked forward into a hard wall of muscle. I opened my watering eyes and saw Haku's face swimming through my tears. He looked like he was smiling, but it was hard to tell. I growled and swiped at my tears with my left hand; my right arm was pinned between our bodies.

He chuckled at my frustration and wiped at my tears with the hand that wasn't holding my shoulder comfortingly. "It'll be okay, it'll be okay, I'm here." He hesitantly rested his chin on the top of my head, and I shuddered and burrowed deeper against his chest. I felt the steady thrumming of his heart beneath my cheek.

"I'm here, Chihiro-chan."


	18. Chapter 17: Names

A/N: Jeez, I keep typing Joe instead of Haku! It's weird, having to switch over to the real name. Eh, but I like that name better than Joe anyway. A little shorter than normal, but that's where it ended, so yay! An update sooner than I thought.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki-san would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Seventeen: Names**_

I pulled out of Haku's embrace. "Chihiro?" I repeated flatly.

Haku stared at me, confused.

"You called me Chihiro," I clarified.

His wrinkled brow smoothed. "Of course I did—that's your name."

"No it's not!" I snapped. I rose and walked to David's body, lying on the table. I smoothed his hair back with trembling fingers. "She's not me, Haku," I said a little more calmly. "And I'm not her. I'm Valkyrie Marie Hiver, an American teenager who dreams about a dead little girl she's never met in her life. I am Valkyrie; not Chihiro."

Haku's slow steps crunched against the loose gravel on the road. I faced him, still keeping my palm flat against my brother's cool forehead. "You have her hair," he said softly, as if worried about upsetting me. Ha! I was upset a long time ago; he needed to worry about me freaking out. Even so, I worked hard to keep my cool.

"Brown's a rather common color."

"Your build, then."

"Ha! I'm at least two feet taller than that shrimp."

"People grow and change."

"Dead people don't grow. I don't care where you are, spirit world or human, but dead people stay dead. Please, God," I added in a quick prayer. I don't think I could take it if there were zombies wandering around here.

Haku snickered. "Nice thought. But you're not dead, Chihiro."

"But I'm not Chihiro!" I cried, finally at the end of my patience. "Get a grip, Haku! She's _dead_. She's not here anymore. I don't know what the hell happened, and I'm really sorry about that, but pretending she's me isn't going to bring her back! It's just going to get you smacked!"

He smirked. "What, and you're going to hit me?"

"You better damn well believe it, dragon boy," I growled.

He held up his hands in defeat, but his lips were still smirking. "Alright, alright, point taken. You are Val. But," he added before I could smile triumphantly, "that doesn't mean you're not Chihiro, too."

I huffed, but that was probably the best I was going to get from the delusional dragon. "Fine. You call me Chihiro one time, though, and your butt's getting kicked all the way back to America."

"Fine," Haku echoed, crossing his arms. "But you're not allowed to call me Joe. Or Nushi. Just Haku."

I shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat."

He eyed me suspiciously. "I mean it, Val-kun."

"I hear you, I hear you," I muttered as I slipped an arm beneath David's head. "Oof. You'd think he'd weigh less with his spirit gone."

"Let me get him." Haku neatly slid into my place, effectively elbowing me out of the way. Levity aside, I watched anxiously as David's arms and legs swung crazily, completely uncontrolled. "We have maybe less than an hour before sunset," he added, glancing at the horizon. "We need to get him to Kamaji-san before the frogs come out to set out the food."

The sun was balanced quite precariously on the edge of the sky, like it might fall away into darkness at any moment. My forehead broke out in wrinkles as I tried to puzzle out this oddity. "But it was one o'clock not ten minutes ago!"

"Time runs differently here." With a slight grunt, Haku readjusted David's body in his arms and started up the hill, leaving me to follow along behind like a lost little duckling.

We turned right onto the bridge, and I stopped dead to stare at the monstrous bathhouse. Even with my admission fresh on my mind, I almost couldn't trust my eyes. I saw it, but I couldn't believe it. The red roofs and the rushing waterfalls echoed in my memory, both distant and recent, both familiar and foreign. Haku sensed my unease, and grabbed my hand. That, too, was similar--the same, but not.

The easy movement unsettled me. I squeezed his hand a tiny bit so he wouldn't be insulted, but eased my fingers out of his grip.

Haku took it with good grace. A funny little smile was on his face as we walked across the bridge, our footsteps echoing loudly on the dry wood and in the chasm below. He compounded the oddness by chuckling quietly to himself.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's so funny?"

"Nothing, really, just…This feels familiar."

"Yeah. This happens every night, remember?"

"No, actually, I _don't_ remember." He looked at me, annoyed. "But that wasn't what I was talking about, anyway."

"Really?" Now I was really curious. "Then what?"

"Remember when you ran into me after your appointment with the psychiatrist?"

I blinked. This wasn't what I'd expected. "Yeah. What about it?"

Haku kept walking. "Well, this just reminds me of that night, that's all."

"You aren't going to flip out about your hair again, are you?" I snickered. "_That_ was really funny." I glanced at his hair. It was now fully green, green like the ocean at night or a nightmarish thundercloud. It seemed he was giving up all pretenses to humanity, now that I'd admitted the truth.

His expression became slightly miffed. "Yes, well, I thought that my cover was blown. People don't usually have green ha—what are you doing?"

I'd stopped walking and crouched on the ground. My back was shaking like a leaf in the breeze, and tears were rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't speak. "Val-kun, what's wrong?!" The panicked edge to his tone just threw me over the edge.

I fell onto the ground and burst out laughing.

Really laughing, like bust-a-gut hard. I was practically convulsing. "Cover…was…blown…!" I gasped out when I could breathe. "You sounded… like… James… Bond…!" And then the image of Haku ordering his martini shaken—not stirred—had me in stitches again.

Haku just stared at me like I was crazy. "Who is James Bond?"

"Hee…" I wiped my eyes and cocked an eyebrow, still chortling. "You really don't know who James Bond is?" When Haku merely stared at me, I shook my head. "Damn, your human education was seriously lacking. Were you living under a rock when you weren't at school?"

"No," he answered primly. "I was doing homework. I had ten years of grade school to catch up on."

"You needed to get a life," I muttered, but I uncurled from my fetus position. I climbed to my feet and jogged the last few steps off of the bridge.

"I had a life," Haku answered as he caught up. "It was just hard to keep it."

That threw me for a loop, but before I could ask him what the hell he was talking about, Haku was darting ahead of me and opening up a well-camouflaged side gate. "Hurry!" he hissed at me. "We've got to get David inside now!"

"I'm coming already!" I grumbled. I nudged the gate open and propped it open with my toe as Haku followed behind me with David still cradled in his arms. We walked quickly through the ornamental side gardens. They were extravagant, with large flowers in vivid colors blooming out of season. They were actually rather tacky, if you could call a garden tacky. I didn't have much time to admire the scenery, though. Haku was walking quickly down the path, and I didn't want to be left alone here.

We were soon at a set of crumbling concrete steps. There were at least a hundred windows above us—all closed, all reflecting the sinking sun like blazing mirrors. Pipes protruded beneath the lowest balconies, running up and down and sideways and crossways and every way. I knew that they carried the water needed for the baths and the kitchens throughout the complex.

"I see that you still haven't put up a handrail," I remarked casually as my heart tried to escape my chest. My toe nudged a pebble to send it flying over the edge and dent the muddy ooze many stories beneath the bathhouse.

"No, we haven't."

Haku seemed anxious for some reason. I'd be nervous too, going down those stairs with a boy in my arms. "I'll take David if you need your balance," I offered.

"I can hold him," Haku said dismissively. "I'll be fine, I just haven't done this in a while." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the descent.

And then he stepped off of the edge of the world, clutching my brother tightly to his chest.

I screamed.

Haku's head immediately popped up, scowling at me. The wind whirled around him, licking at his clothes and David's shoelaces. "Stop that screeching! You'll wake up half the staff!"

"Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?" I hissed. The blood had still not returned to my face. "Get back here!"

Haku rolled his eyes. "Get a grip, Val-kun. Dragon, remember?" He glided to the bottom of the stairs, depositing my brother gently on the stoop. He swooped back to me and hovered, holding out his arms.

"Uh, _hell_ no." I stepped backward quickly, hitting my back against the rough concrete wall. The wind whistled past my ears.

"What, are you _scared_, Val-kun?" Haku's smile was taunting now.

"Yes," I snapped. "If we were supposed to fly, we'd have frickin' wings!"

"It's a lot safer than taking the stairs."

"I managed it last time!"

"Did you?"

I glared at him. "I thought you said you didn't remember my dreams."

"I don't. I was just guessing."

"Don't talk about what you don't know!"

"Don't diss it 'til you try it."

"Jesus, Joe, don't say 'diss'. That's just lame."

Haku suddenly swooped and caught me up in his arms. I pushed against his embrace, but it was like trying to budge a wall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I told you," he bit off as he carried me to the boiler room's door, "never to call me Joe again. Remember?"

I tried swallowing, but my throat was completely dry with fear. There was nothing solid at all besides a stubborn, aggravating idiot. I coughed and croaked, "Slipped."

"Fine; I 'slipped,' too." He set me gently on my feet. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

My fingers wouldn't stop shaking, so I stuffed them in my pockets. "You're a prick."

"You're welcome."

I pointed to my brother, who was lying at my feet. "Would you pick him up already so we can go inside and off this death trap?"

"Your wish is my command."

"Whatever."

* * *

The hallway leading to the boiler room was sauna-hot. The air was hazy with the steam that burst from the full pipes. The pipes themselves looked like pulsing veins. I guess they were veins, in a way: they carried the hot water that was the bathhouse's lifeblood.

It was dark, though Haku managed to make his way through the hall easily enough. I followed him, trying to breathe through the intense humidity. The air was dryer when Haku opened up the door, but it was hotter. I could feel my lips cracking under the intense heat from the furnace.

I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the new light. When I saw Kamaji and his little soot ball workers, I almost fell to my knees in shock. What impossibilities I was seeing weren't like fantasy in a book or in a movie or even like my dreams—this was the real world, and things like this couldn't exist.

But they did, and were real. They cast shadows against the floor and the wall-shelves as they worked. The light from the furnace doors lit Kamaji's mustache and made the black soot stains shimmer against his skin under their coating of sweat. His odd black spectacles flashed as he bent over some herbal mixture, pounding it relentlessly into powder. I sniffed, smelling the wild smell of an open flame and something more pungent, but not exactly distasteful. It reminded me of slightly moldy hay, or maybe old autumn leaves.

Kamaji didn't sense us enter the room—at least, he didn't stop for us. But his soot balls noticed us. One coal block stopped, and I could see it slowly rotating in place. The edge of the coal lifted, and in the next flicker of fire light, I saw a pair of completely dark, liquid eyes looking in my direction. Its spindly spider legs slowly creeped out from beneath the coal while its arms gently lowered the coal to the ground behind it. I could see its fuzzy little body now, maybe a little larger than a cotton ball. Its odd fur started to tremble, though I couldn't see why.

Haku watched this all play out with a solemn expression. Now, he mimicked the soot ball, setting my brother gently on the floor while another soot ball ran into the first and turned to see what had gotten its attention. They created a mini traffic jam; soon other soot balls were stopping to stare at me. I felt the strangest compulsion to hide from their glittering black stares behind Haku. As it was, I would've turned red had it not been my already-flushed face.

"Eh?" Kamaji finally noticed there was something else down there with him to distract his busy workers. He turned his head to face us and froze.

"Kamaji-san," Haku greeted him.

He didn't reply. One pair of arms arched behind his back to grab a tea kettle that was perched precariously on the edge of his platform. Another hand reached up to polish his glasses with a spotted handkerchief.

One other hand slowly stretched towards me, and I stared in horrid fascination at the way his arm didn't stop coming. His nails were long and ragged and black, speaking of a lifetime in the boiler room. I didn't move—I couldn't.

"Sen?" he rumbled in disbelief. His mustache fluttered.

In answer, I stepped forward, meeting his fingers in mid-reach. They were chapped and rough against my cheek, calloused with work. I closed my eyes as his fingertips delicately caressed my cheek. "Close enough, Kamaji-san. But call me Val."

His fingers withdrew. I opened my eyes to watch his arm wind back into his body. He sighed, leaning against his rolling grinding stone as if he'd suddenly aged a hundred years. "Val, then. What're you doing here, Val-san?"

"Her brother," Haku said before I could even open my mouth. "Yubaba has him."

"So that's who the human is, eh?" Kamaji shook his head and peered closer at me. "I never knew Sen had a brother."

"Sen didn't," I said.

"But then, how…?" Kamaji looked at Haku for explanation.

Haku just shrugged. "Things changed in the outside."

"Bah! Humans!" Kamaji spat onto the boiler. It hissed and evaporated on contact. "Changing everything."

Miffed that I'd been metaphorically elbowed out of the conversation, I looked down at the soot balls. They were still staring at me. I crouched and offered them a hand, curious to see if they were as fuzzy as they looked.

They skipped away when my hand touched their cool floor, but one brave little fellow creeped forward to delicately place one long foot on my palm. I giggled. It was like holding a puff of air.

Others swarmed around my hand, pushing each other out of the way in their eagerness to greet me. The talking stopped above my head, and I glanced up to see Kamaji and Haku staring at me.

Haku smiled crookedly, meeting my gaze. "They remember you, Val-san."

I flinched when I heard my name. For some reason, my name seemed out of place for this hot place straight from my dreams. For some reason, Val didn't seem to fit here.

And for some reason, I felt like _her_ name fit this place—fit _me_—better than my own. And I felt the faintest bit uneasy about the change.


	19. Chapter 18: Solution

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki-san would have a problem with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Eighteen: Solution **_

A scraping and thumping at the tiny wooden sliding door redirected my attention from my half-formed insecurities. A brisk voice struck into the heated room like a thunderbolt, leaving me completely winded, because I never expected to identify that voice so automatically. Then again, I'd heard it rather frequently for the past seven years, and its tone was rather unforgettable.

"Lin."

Lin stopped her typical rant at Kamaji—who hadn't even bothered to look at her for the entire tirade—and whipped her head around to face me. Her expression was murderously lovely on her face, a face that knew no wrinkle or other blemish to mark the time since I had last seen her in the flesh.

Her features were wiped clean of everything but surprise when she saw me. "S-sen?" she stammered.

"Val," I corrected, but I doubt that she heard me, as at that moment she flew across the soot balls' hole-home to crash into me in a huge hug. I heard her basket fall to the hard floor, but my hearing was rather dominated with her excited sobs.

"Sen-chan! I can't believe it! I can't believe it!" She burst into tears, clutching the back of my head and rocking us back and forth like she was comforting a child. "You're back, you're back," she chanted through the tears. "You've come back to us, Sen-chan."

I felt extremely stiff in her arms at first. Her embrace was not familiar like David's or warm like Haku's—it was cool, like sheets fresh from the clothesline. She smelled clean, free of any odors at all. I grinned as I relaxed into the hug. No wonder they'd found me by scent before—they had none at all.

"Yes, I'm back," I murmured into Lin's ear. "And I'm planning to stay for a while, so if you let me go, I promise not to run away. Really."

Lin chuckled, a little watery after her uncharacteristic crying jag. She leaned back to look at me, her gaze sweeping my face and what she could see of my body while she was still holding me. Her dark eyes widened. "You've changed."

"Humans do." I looked at Haku, who was the same gloriously handsome teenager that I'd first met. Lucky spirits. "And it's not exactly the same me that you first met, Lin-chan."

"Your soul's the same, though," Lin said softly.

Haku's smile became a smirk, and I scowled at him. I didn't correct Lin, though; I didn't want to make enemies on my very first night there. I had to control my temper if I wanted to live for long, even if it seemed like I _did_ have a dragon on my side this time.

A trembling mass of black caught my attention. "Uh, are they supposed to eat that…?"

Lin glanced to see what I was talking about. In a flash, my arms were empty as her shouts rang and clanged in the metal boiler room: "Get outta there, you greedy little soot monsters! You know better than to eat Kamaji-san's food! Just take the starflakes, _those_ are your breakfast…!"

She put her arms on her waist while she watched the chastened and much-subdued sootballs release their hold on the sticky rice and chicken that had been Kamaji's dinner and gingerly pluck a starflake each from the mess scattered on their floor. I muffled a chuckle. Mother hen.

Lin saw that I was looking at her and she grinned sheepishly. Carefully stepping around the lines of slowly marching sootballs, she leaned forward enough to offer a me a hand into the hole. I hesitated before taking it, sliding my smooth palms across her calloused fingers. I winced; I hadn't been as diligent at working as I'd—as _Chihiro_ had been before she'd died.

Lin gripped my hand tightly, like she really believed that I would fly away if she let me go. She towed me through the swarm of soot and pulled me up the final ledge. I stumbled as I cleared the lip—it was higher than I'd expected—but Haku caught me before I could fall completely.

"Thanks, Haku-san." I smiled at him.

He kept his arms around my waist, even though Lin still held my hand. "You're welcome, Val-kun."

Lin and Kamaji shared a glance. Before I could say anything about it—like, "Don't get any ideas!"—Lin released her grip on my hand, thoroughly putting me off-balance and causing me and Haku to tumble backward into the sootballs' hole. I landed on Haku's belly with an "Oomph!"

We stared at each other for a second. I swallowed as I realized just how close his face was to mine, as I remembered the touch of his lips against mine last night—had it only been last night?—and his words, those harsh and beautiful words.

"Well. This is familiar." Haku's lips twisted into a wry smile, and I cursed myself even as my eyes glued themselves to his mouth.

"H-how so?"

Haku's smirk became even more pronounced. "David's first karate lesson?"

"Oh." David. Brother. In trouble. "_Oh_!" I threw myself off of him, berating myself for being so stupid as to have forgotten all about my brother. "Sorry, Haku-san." I offered him a hand up, and he accepted.

Lin and Kamaji were staring at us with wide eyes. My cheeks quickly growing red, I ducked my head and saw that the sootballs were staring at us with equal attention. I internally groaned, closing my eyes. Great.

"What…What _happened_ to you, Haku-sama?" Lin finally spit out.

Haku smiled, seemingly untroubled. "Life, I suppose."

Kamaji made a strange, high-pitched noise, and it took a moment before I realized that he was laughing. "Let the young ones be, Lin-san. They've got other troubles to worry about without thinking that they've offended you."

Lin flushed, blood flooding her pale cheeks. "You have to see it, too, Kamaji-san! Really, it's so…so _obvious_!"

"But not unexpected."

"I suppose not." Lin sighed.

"Would anyone like to clue me in to the little coded conversation just now?" I wondered aloud.

Kamaji harrumphed. "Would you like to explain your conversation with Haku-sama?"

I blushed again and tried to release Haku's hand. "No." His fingers merely tightened around mine.

"Well, then." Kamaji crossed two of his arms and peered down at me from atop his pedestal. "I suggest that you ask a little more politely in the future, _Val-san_—after all, that's what got your brother into trouble." His brow scrunched. "At least, I assume it's your brother, after what Haku-sama's said…"

"What?!" I leaned forward, my antagonism gone as soon as my brother was mentioned. "Tell me what happened!"

Kamaji shrugged. "Nothing all that unusual for a human. One of the frogs found him wandering around in the shops, and decided to bring him to Yubaba. He's probably a pig by now."

I felt my knees begin to buckle. Only Haku's sturdy arm that was suddenly wrapped around my shoulders managed to keep me on my feet. "A pig?" I choked out.

"Or just a spirit, I suppose—you've got the body still, right?"

"He's only a boy!" I wailed.

"You were only a child when you arrived the first time," Haku pointed out quietly, "and you survived."

I shivered. "Once."

"But you can do it again!" he urged. His arm clutched me tighter, as if he could squeeze the courage into me.

I looked at Kamaji and Lin with opaque eyes. My sight had turned inward, flicking past memory after memory of the nightmares of the past seven years. Death after death, failure after failure—it was hopeless. If I could not learn from my mistakes after seven _years_ worth of chances, how could anyone suddenly expect me to succeed now?

"Hopeless," I whispered through numb lips. My heart contracted, freezing to my rib cage.

"Hey, what's that?"

I dully turned to follow Lin's pointed finger. My bag was lying in the corner—Haku must've brought it in with David—and a corner of my current journal had slipped out, the red leather catching the light of the amber furnace and glowing slightly with the borrowed shine. "Just my journal. It's got—" I stopped. I stared. It couldn't be that simple. No way was I that lucky.

I shrugged out of Haku's arm and walked like I was asleep, like a pilgrim approaching the altar for salvation. The fabric flap fell away to reveal my journal in its entirety, along with the others that I had so casually swept into the bag before I'd left my home for this new world. My journals. My guardians of my sanity. My guidebooks. My way to free my brother.

"It can't be this simple," I repeated dully. I carefully opened the cover, allowing the pages to rustle and flip by my eyes. Everything that I'd experienced was written down here, in these pages or in the pages of the other journals in my bag. Everything that I'd seen or heard or done in this place was recorded for my casual perusal…or my strictest studying. I felt hope begin to thaw my heart, sparking it into a frenzied rhythm.

"What is it, Val-kun?" Haku knelt at my side, his brows pulled together worriedly. I felt Lin's presence hovering at my back and Kamaji's gaze burning into the back of my head.

"I can do it," I said, wondering at the words that just a moment before had seemed impossible.

"Of course you can," Haku replied, confused.

"No." I laughed—a little hysterically, but a laugh nonetheless. I shoved the journal beneath his nose, forcing him to look at my scrawled and scratchy handwriting. "No, you don't understand! I can do it because I've got _this_!"

Haku's expression cleared. "Oh. Your journals. Of course."

"What do you mean, 'Of course?'" I scowled at him, my elation draining quickly at his marked lack of enthusiasm. "This holds all the answers that I need! I can't go wrong if I follow my journal! I'll learn from what I did wrong and do everything right now! I can save my brother!"

"I'm glad for you, Val-san." Haku's smile didn't reach his eyes, but I really didn't care just then. "Well, shall we go to Yubaba, since you've found your solution?"

"Yubaba?"

"Of course. She has to give you a contract to sign, so that you can stay and work to get your brother back."

"Of course." I nodded, grabbing my first journal and quickly scanning the middle section. "We should go now, before business picks up for the night, otherwise I'll…" I peered closely at my cramped, juvenile cursive. "I'll be used as appetizer for the first guests!" I proclaimed, proud of my translation.

When I got no reaction to the news, I looked up from the journal to find all three of them looking at me with varying degrees of horror and disgust.

"What?"


	20. Chapter 19: Rumpelstiltskin

A/N: So I've got a snow day today and figured it'd be a great time to update. Yay! :) I think this is one of my favorite chapters.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki-san would have problems with that.

* * *

_**Chapter Nineteen: Rumpelstiltskin**_

Lin led the way out of the boiler room. It was just her, me, and Haku—we'd decided it was safest to leave David to Kamaji's excellent care, though it hurt me to have him out of my sight here. I clutched my bad close to my chest, feeling the hard spines of my journals poke through the canvas into my gut. My sneakers squeaked on the polished floor, and to my overly-sensitive ears the shrill sound seemed to echo in the narrow corridor, rebounding off the walls into Yubaba's waiting, wrinkly ears. The soft shush of Lin's slippers underscored the loudness of my footsteps. I winced and tried to walk more lightly.

Haku followed behind us. I couldn't hear his footsteps on the floor—it was kinda eerie. It reminded me yet again that the boy I thought I'd known wasn't and had never been normal. He wasn't even human—I was the only one in this entire place that held that dubious honor.

We saw no one in the hallway or the stairs that led to the main floor for paying patrons, which I found rather odd. Maybe it was just my frayed nerves whispering things to my overactive imagination, but it seemed as if the entire bathhouse was holding its breath, waiting for some kind of explosion to shatter the silence.

We filed past ornate, gaudy panels that divided the main floor into the separate washrooms. Here, at last, there was some semblance of life. Here were the people, beings, spirits—whatever you want to call them. Whispers rolled in waves ahead of our tiny procession. I heard the slap of feet race to the various doorways to watch us pass. Shiny eyes blinked and stared in feverish excitement. I tried not to look at them, but soon there were too many eyes out to avoid them all. They seemed to devour me with their stares, eating through my clothes and skin and flesh until they were nibbling on my very soul.

I hadn't realized that I'd stopped until I felt a warm presence heat my back. I turned my head to see Haku had silently walked up to flank me, bolstering my confidence. He wasn't looking at me, but rather glaring over my head at the crowds that were still staring at us.

"Get to work," he said, and I flinched at his harshness. "We've got guests arriving. _Move_."

And they moved. There was suddenly an intense flurry of movement. Hands found buckets and brooms, tubs were abruptly in need of an immediate scrubbing, and floors were so filthy that they demanded that half the staff drop to their knees and buff the wood, using their own robes if there were no rags immediately available.

The room filled with the clacks of clogs on hardwood floors and the whoosh of water spraying from faucets, but at least the whispers had stopped. I sighed, relaxing my shoulders slightly. A hot hand gripped my shoulder, and I looked at Haku again. He was facing me now that the audience was busy with other tasks. His brow was furrowed in concern.

"Are you alright?" he murmured.

I shivered, and the grip on my shoulder tightened. "Been better," I muttered. "Thanks."

But he wasn't listening anymore. His eyes narrowed and his lips peeled away from his teeth in a silent snarl. I glanced over my shoulder to see what had caught his attention. A maid like Lin was frozen in place, staring at the two of us together. Her eyes were wide as they watched our semi-embrace.

Haku opened his mouth to say something to the maid, but I elbowed him in the ribs. He jumped, startled.

"Ow," he said unnecessarily. I rolled my eyes; I knew I hadn't actually hurt him.

"Enough!" I hissed. "She doesn't deserve whatever the hell you're about to say to her."

Haku ground his teeth together. "But—"

"'But' nothing! We've got to go!" And I grabbed the hand that still held my shoulder and strode down the hallway, nearly dragging that stubborn-ass dragon after me. When we passed the maid, her eyes were even wider than they'd been when Haku'd glared. I thought her eyebrows—little dots that they were—were going to fly off her face, they were so high up on her forehead in disbelief. I caught a flash of awe and consternation and something else—jealousy?—before she ducked into a washroom. The rest of the beings seemed to catch my emotional state because they practically crushed themselves against the walls to allow Haku and me to pass with at least two feet of room on either side.

Line was waiting for us at an elevator. Her scowl scared away any potential troublemakers. She aimed that scowl at Haku as we stumbled into the elevator. As soon as his heel cleared the edge, Lin slammed the lever down and we began to rise. I peered through the slatted wooden sides of the lift as we rose above the now-steaming room and Lin ripped Haku a new one.

"Just what did you think you were doing?!" Lin hissed at Haku.

"Did you hear what they were whispering?" Haku demanded, looking incensed, but Lin waved his observation away with a snort.

"Of course they're whispering! She's human, and we haven't had a human here in ages. But _you_ had to go and flare up and play Dragon-Sama and now they'll know for sure who she is! It would've been better to let them wonder, but you've ensured that everyone in the bathhouse knows that Sen-chan's back!"

"But I couldn't just let them whisper about her!"

"Oh, yes you could've!" Lin switched her glare to me. I flinched. "And you didn't help!"

"What'd _I_ do?!"

"You're the _only_ one who could've manhandled Dragon-Sama here without getting your head bitten off, and the whole staff knows it. That, more than anything else, confirmed that you're Sen-chan."

"Why is it such a bad thing for everyone to know who I am?"

Lin sighed, suddenly tired. She leaned against the side of the still-ascending elevator. "You're a bit famous around here, Sen-chan."

"For rescuing Chi—uh, my parents?"

"Partly." Lin's eyes darted to Haku and returned to me before I had time to really register the movement. I looked at Haku curiously—his face was completely blank, though I noticed his hands were clenched at his sides.

"What else, then?"

"Never you mind," Haku ground out testily.

Now I was really curious. "What is it?"

But he refused to answer me. I glared at Lin, suspicious of the partial answers I was getting. It looked like she was trying not to smile, but I couldn't imagine what she suddenly found so entertaining about our current situation.

The elevator pinged softly, and the door silently rolled away to reveal a jewel-encrusted gold behemoth of a door. Two lamps burned brightly on either side of the door, reflecting the rich gleam of burnished metal. It dazzled my eyes; I blinked a few times, tears welling up as if I'd accidentally looked into the sun.

A gentle nudge brought my attention to my right. Lin was leaning towards me, her hands partially extended like she wanted to offer some sort of assistance but she wasn't entirely sure of my reception of such actions. Concern and anxiousness mixed on her face, and it took all I had not to collapse into her waiting embrace. Choking back tears, I reached for her hand, twisting my fingers into hers. "Arigatou," I whispered.

Lin's eyes filled, though the tears did not spill. Her grip on my fingers tightened. Blindly, I fumbled behind me for another hand that I needed. Haku's fingers closed gently around my left hand. We stood like that for a minute: a warm, living chain that I hoped with all my heart would never be broken. My chest ached for my absent little brother, that he could be welded in the middle of our chain so that I could never be separated from him again. Once I got David out of here, we would never be apart again, I swore it.

A sharp cackle echoed through the antechamber. Haku abruptly dropped my hand and stepped away from me. I frowned at him, but he refused to look at me.

"How _sweet_!" the grating voice cooed at us. "The human girl is back again!"

Lin glared at the brass knocker face that was speaking. Its metal eyes rolled and stared as it continued chattering. "And here I thought your brother would be lonely for a little while longer."

"Let him go!" I shrieked, darting forward, ready to smash that tinny piece of trash. Lin pulled on my hand, preventing me from reaching my intended target.

"Don't, Sen-chan!"

"Yes, don't, _Sen-chan_," the knocker mocked. I glared at it until its eyes rolled again. "This has been lovely, but I'm getting tired of waiting. Come in."

The doors swung open to reveal another door, and another, and another, all more ornate and garish than the last. Lamps flared in each 'room' in the long hall, throwing the absurdly vibrant and rich colors into relief.

I shook Lin's hand off and stepped forward. A small wind tugged at the front of my clothes, urging me forward, but at least I wasn't being dragged like last time. Lin and Haku followed close behind me. We started walking through the hall of doors.

I thought I heard Lin hiss quietly at Haku "_And stop it with the chivalry_!" but I couldn't be sure. I wanted to ask what she meant by that, but I was afraid that if I turned around, I run all the way back to the elevator and cower in the corner.

My heartbeat increased its pounding for every door that we walk through. By the time we reached the final, closed door, it was hammering like a machine gun. I sensed Haku and Lin stiffen—I could hear them breathing anymore. (Did they even need to breathe?) The doors loomed above us, the many monsters sculpted out of silver and gold and platinum leering and gaping at us with faceted, jeweled eyes. I reached for the heavily scrolled handles, but they jerked downwards of their own accord. The latch lifted with a tiny snick, and the doors swung into Yubaba's office. A heavy cloud of incense billowed from the entrance, and I coughed to clear my lungs of the clinging scent.

"Well, don't just stand there!" a crotchety voice croaked. "Come in!"

I went in on shaky legs. A quick glance revealed that nothing had changed since my last visit there. The lamps were covered with the same colored shades, the furniture still carves with intricate and clashing styles, the heavily embroidered drapes tightly closed against any potential spies. There was even a fire burning in the fireplace like last time, snapping and crackling as if it'd love to escape from its iron grate to devour the combustible antiques and treasures crammed into the office but only the power of the hag-witch kept it under control.

Yubaba hadn't changed either. Her hair, her wrinkles, the dress, the mole in the middle of her forehead—everything was exactly the same as that night seven years ago, as she'd been every night since I was ten. She scowled as I stared.

"You've grown, girl. You'd make a fine little piggy now, just like your parents did."

Her words interrupted my stare. "Never!" I spat, and the word cracked like a whip between us.

Yubaba merely smirked. "Not even to save your brother?"

My hands clenched so hard that my nails sliced through my skin. "_Give him back to me_."

Yubaba picked up a gold coin, casually examining its printed face in the light from the fire. It threw yellow sparkles into her face, drawing answering shimmers from her oversized earrings. "What do you have to trade for him?"

I took a deep breath, willing my pulse to calm and my fingers to relax. My fingernails dripped red onto her carpet as I answered, "How about myself?"

Except for Lin's sudden intake of breath, there was now reaction to the news. I refused to look at Haku, instead staring Yubaba down. Surely they'd known I'd been planning this. It'd worked before, right?

Youbaba's eyes glittered like the coin she clutched in her meaty fist. She flicked the fingers of her free hand. A sheet of paper—a contract—and a quill, its point coated with ink, flew to me. I caught them with ease. Kneeling onto the thick Oriental carpet, not even bothering to read the contract, I placed the tip of my pen to the line to sign my name.

But what name to put? Valkyrie? Chihiro? Sen? Which one was mine? Which one should I give up to the witch?

I kept my quill to the paper, watching the ink spread from the point in a little black pool, spreading through the fibers of the heavy paper. Eventually, Yubaba sighed.

"Don't you know your own name, little girl?"

"Of course I do!" I snapped, but I bit my lip as soon as I said it.

She noticed, and a wide, evil smile spread across her lips. "Oh, this is rich!" she hooted, throwing back her head and cackling. "The little human girl wants to save her brother, but she doesn't even know her own name!" Still cackling, she snapped her fingers. The paper and quill jumped out of my hand and zoomed to her.

"Hey!" I protested. "I wasn't done with that!"

"Yes, you were." Yubaba was done laughing, but evil amusement still radiated from every pore of her skin. "You wish to save your brother? Fine. In exchange, I want you to tell me your name."

I stared at her, incredulous. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm completely serious, human girl. You have three chances to tell me your name. You have until sunset on your third day here—if you live that long," she added, snickering. I opened my mouth to answer her, but she held up one pudgy finger to stop my answer. "Ah, not so fast, human. Think carefully of what you tell me. Lie to me—and I will know if you give me a false answer—and it will go the worse for you."

I nodded and replied, "Then my name is Valkyrie Marie Hiver."

Yubaba raised one eyebrow. "Are you certain?"

I wavered. What if it was the wrong answer? Was it the one she wanted? But how the hell was I supposed to know?! This wasn't following any of the normal patterns! She'd changed everything.

Shrugging, I nodded my head. Hell, I had two more chances if I was wrong. (But how could I be wrong about my own name?)

Yubaba cackled. "You're wrong, human!"

I gaped at her. "No, it is! Really!"

"Silence!" Yubaba snapped. "You weren't even sure if you were right, so do not presume to tell me if my assessment is incorrect!" Her piggy eyes roamed the room, focusing on a spot behind me and to the left. "And your punishment is that you must stay beside Haku-san for the entirety of your stay at the bathhouse."

"No!" I gasped. I couldn't! I had been planning on exploring the bathhouse after this meeting, looking for my brother. I couldn't do it with a dragon along! That was bound to attract attention.

"Silence!" And Yubaba made the zipper motion with her fingers. My mouth sealed shut against further interruption. She thrust her palm towards Haku and me, and a bright yellow light flared out from her palm to strike us both. I was aware of an intense heat enveloping my entire body, and Haku's heartbeat was suddenly the loudest thing in the world. Its drumming echoed through my body, causing me to vibrate with each thrum. The sound was the only thing to follow me as I dropped into unconsciousness from the hag-witch's spell.


	21. Chapter 20: Bad Reputation

A/N: The twentieth chapter! Holy cow, this has run longer than I ever would've dreamed! It's well over one hundred typed pages in 12 pt TNR on my Word processor. Wow. I write too much. And I talk too much, too.

Well, I'll shut up here in a second, but in honor of my twentieth chapter and fifty-first review, I'd like to take a second to say thank you to:

**darkfairie34, Misty Voughn (formerly Voughn), corbinbleuelover1015, Katie B 17, Dreamcatcher1411, moonlightshade, crystalfeathers, dday Editor—see, it's a bold statement this time! ^^—I'mTheOneTheyWarnedYouAbout, soralover102, Suils Saifir, Kasumi 9-9, Falling Momiji, Archon Dragon, .jutsu, freckles rule, and missyf33**

for taking the time to not only read over 100 pages of fanfiction, but also leave wonderfully motivating and kind reviews.

Some people have said that they think I deserve more reviews for the amount of effort that I put into the story, but frankly I never expected the story to receive the 16+ dedicated readers that it did. I am completely floored that I got that kind of a response—I can't get even three of my friends here to read this story, and to think that perfect strangers from all around the world (I think) read this story and think it's good enough to leave encouraging comments to ask me to continue was more than I ever thought would happen.

So, thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart. I write for me, but since I already know how the story ends—and yes, I _do_ actually know how this whole story is going to turn out! (for the most part)—it might not have gotten even this far without your loving support.

And for my lurker readers: if you have any comments or questions, please, feel free to leave me a review or a PM…though, if you've got a question, be prepared to get a long response. Ask Sina 'bout that. :D

I know, I know, this is a huge author's note this time. (Guess it was longer than a second, huh?) But I felt that my fantastic reviewers not only deserved the private thank you I give them every time they review, but also public commendations as well. ~Hugs to everybody!~

And now: your chapter. ^^ (Quick note: "Baka" means something along the lines of "idiot" in Japanese.)

_**Chapter Twenty: Bad Reputation**_

I swam back to consciousness slowly, like I was trying to paddle through Elmer's glue. A heartbeat still thrummed through the clinging darkness, pulling me inexorably back to the land of the living (or at least, the semi-conscious).

I refused to open my eyes. The heartbeat—mine, I realized lazily—sped up, encouraging me to get up, but I had absolutely no interest in moving from this position. Silks and light cottons swirled around my legs and arms, encasing me in their soft folds. My hair clung to my cheeks and my nose; I was sure I looked like the talking haystack from that weird, monster family sitcom—what was that called again? Oh well—but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was warm and breathing and peaceful and if I never moved from this bed (only a bed could be this soft and comfy and snuggly) again, I wouldn't care.

But something tugged at my hand, guiding me to increased wakefulness: a warm, slightly rough something. It folded around my customarily cold fingers, imbuing my skin with its heat. I sighed slightly and clutched it as tightly as my sleepy body could manage. It held my hand tightly, too. My chest began to warm, as if it held my heart and not my hand.

A faint brush of air fanned across my face. The stray hairs that had been clinging to my skin were dislodged. Slowly, without any hurry or rush at all, I opened my eyelids.

Haku looked back at me, his left hand hovering above my temple as his right one still held my hand. We maintained eye contact, me too lazy to close my eyes again now that they were open, and he…well, who knows why he didn't blink?

"How are you feeling?" His voice was cautious.

I gave my reply more thought than was really necessary, considering the answer: "Confused."

He smiled almost despite himself. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from my grasp. My palm was instantly too cool to be comfortable, so I pulled it beneath the green silk comforter that had been piled on top of me. He stood up—God, he was tall—and walked to a cushion not two feet away. (Why he had to stand up at all to go that distance, I had no idea. Maybe he was feeling stiff or something. My brain was too foggy to think about it.)

"Confused is expected," he said at last. "At least your fever's gone down."

I frowned, my mind still muzzy. "Fever?"

"Yes. Your body's little used to magic like the sort Yubaba cast on you—us—so it's no surprise that you collapsed like you did. I caught you—" Was he blushing? It was hard to tell "—and carried you back here. You were sweating, and so I took your temperature. You had a high fever, so I…" Yep, he was definitely blushing. How odd. He cleared his throat and continued. "I changed you into something cooler and laid you here to rest."

Was that all? I peeked beneath the covers and saw that I was now dressed in a pale green cotton yukata. It seemed to be a size or two too large for me, though I couldn't quite tell: the fabric had bunched up while I'd slept.

I blinked, yawned, and remembered some part of my oft-forgotten manners. (I'd have to resurrect those while here.) "Thanks, Haku."

Haku's cheeks got even redder. That's when the full implications of what he'd told me came clear. Suddenly, I was no longer feeling like a slugabed; I was _electric_.

"You _undressed_ me?!"

Haku sprang backward, holding up his hands to stop my sudden attack while babbling explanations. It might've entertained me if I hadn't been out for his blood.

"No! Not really. Well, I started to, you were burning up, but Lin came in and, well, took over, and I hadn't done anything yet, not really!"

"_Yet_?!" I screeched, and I lunged for him. It spoke volumes of his embarrassment that I was able to get the jump on him and tackle him to the floor. I raised a clawed hand to gauge out the eyeballs of that dragon _pervert_. Haku cringed (as well he should).

I never got a chance to finish the job because at that moment, the door slammed open to reveal a disheveled and livid Lin. She took one look at the rumbled bedclothes and our position on the floor before attacking us with the mop that she whirled in her hand like a staff, flinging suds and dirty water everywhere.

Actually, she was just attacking Haku. He'd immediately pushed me out of the way of her wild thrust of the handle, but that meant he was completely exposed to the thrashing Lin was trying to dish out.

He could've disarmed her immediately, I knew that from lessons. For some reason, though, he merely parried the blows, not allowing any to hit but not striking back, either. He was trying to soothe her, frantically trying to say something that would break through Lin's inexplicable rage, but Lin would have none of it.

"I _told_ you to stay the hell away from her, Haku-sama! I _warned_ you what would happen if you didn't! You are _so_ damn lucky that it was me who came up here to see what the hell was going on and not someone else on staff! Think of Sen-chan, baka, and stop thinking with your—"

But at this point, I'd recovered enough to jump in and disarm Lin myself since Haku apparently wasn't going to any time soon. The mop crashed to the floor as I yelled, "Lin-chan! What do you think you're _doing_?!"

"Protecting your reputation!" she yelled right back at me.

I blinked. That was completely unexpected. "What?"

"Your reputation, dumbass." Lin sighed heavily and plopped onto the crumpled blankets on the futon, pulling me down with her. Haku sat warily, apparently prepared to jump up to defend himself if Lin showed any signs of attacking again. She was evidently fought out, though, because she simply went on: "Come on, Sen-chan, think for a second. A handsome young dragon who just happens to be an extremely powerful river-god kidnaps—"

"He didn't kidnap me," I interrupted.

"_Kidnaps_," Lin repeated with a look that could've silenced a bigger mouth than mine, "a young, beautiful female human who everyone knows he's been in lo—"

"Alright already!" Haku jumped in, agitated. "She gets it, Lin-san!"

And I did. My mouth fell open involuntarily. "They think we're…lovers?" I said slowly, testing the foreign word on my tongue. My brain could hardly wrap around the idea of being involved in such a 'scandal' at my age. I was only seventeen, for crying out loud! But I knew that kids much younger than me were…

In any case! "The staff needs to get their heads out of the gutter," I snapped.

Lin snorted. "Oh, don't play innocent with me, girl. I saw what the two of you were up to when I came in."

"'Up to'?! We weren't…!" I thought about what she must've seen: me, straddling Haku's waist, the messy blankets, my yukata hanging open in all the wrong (or right) places…Shit. She was right; anyone would've thought the same thing. But…"But we weren't doing anything!"

"Whatever," Lin grunted. She swung her head to Haku, and he raised his hands in defense again. "I will not allow you to sully my Sen-chan's reputation, dragon!"

"Hai!" And I smirked at the panicked tone in his voice.

"I mean it! I won't—what?" Lin stopped in mid-sentence, completely nonplussed.

"You are right, Lin-san." He bowed slightly—a brave thing to do, exposing your neck under these circumstances. "I will do as you ask."

Lin and I traded glances. "Was he like this in your world?" she asked finally.

"Like how?"

"Agreeable."

I choked back a laugh. "Hardly."

"Hey!" Haku reached over to poke my side. "I was extremely agreeable to you!"

"Bullshit," I countered. "Remember Courtney?"

"Completely deserved."

"Was not!"

"I beg to differ."

"Beg all you want, doesn't matter to me."

"What does matter?"

"Not you!"

"I resent that!"

"I resent your disagreeability!"

"Enough!" Lin shouted.

Haku and I blinked at each other. We'd been leaning closer to each other with every parry and thrust of our verbal sparing. I quickly jerked my head away, and Haku smirked. I stuck out my tongue at him.

"Sorry, I don't kiss long distance."

"I said, _Enough_, you two!" She stared at us, looking like she was torn between wanting to bash our heads in and laughing uproariously. She settled by shaking her head slowly. "By all the spirits, it's so obvious. I can't believe this is happening…!"

"What are you talking about, Lin?" I asked her wearily. She was referencing her conversation with Kamaji, of that I was certain, but I was still lost as to what in the world she was saying.

She eyed me strangely. "You really don't know, do you?" she replied slowly. "You really can't see it?"

I groaned. "See _what_?"

She stared at Haku, her hand unconsciously raising to cover her mouth. "You're joking, surely…?"

He shook his head, grimacing. "I'm afraid not, Lin-san."

It was her turn to blink in surprise. "Well." She looked back at me. "Well," she said again. "This is…_interesting_."

"Try 'mind numbingly frustrating,'" Haku suggested.

"You have to tell her soon, you know."

He made another face. "I know."

"_You know_," I remarked idly, picking at a pill in my yukata sleeve, "I _really_ hate it when people talk over my head. It'd be great if someone would give me a clue as to what in the world everybody was talking about."

Lin startled me by laughing. "Oh no! You won't get me to tell you, not now that I know."

"Know _what_?!"

But she was brushing off her knees, getting ready to leave. She retrieved her mop from the corner where it had made a puddle. "I'll see you later, Haku-sama, Sen-chan. _Behave_." And with a final glare at Haku, she departed, closing the sliding door softly behind her.

"What the hell was she talking about, Haku?" I asked him finally. I walked over to the bed and started folding blankets. A pale pair of hands reached across my field of vision to pick up the mangled pillow. He fluffed while I folded.

"Your reputation is currently, ah, rather loose right now with the staff. Yubaba's spell won't help—I have to be in your presence at all times, and vice versa, so we'll never be apart and allow the rumors to die down on their own."

I shrugged, picking up a new blanket. "So what? I never cared about my reputation before; why should it matter now?"

"Well, first of all, it's just plain unseemly for an unmarried maiden to be sharing quarters with a, well, man."

I snorted. "Haku, you are so old fashioned, you know that? And anyway, why can't we tell the staff about the spell? That'd explain any closeness."

"Ah, but we were close _before_ the spell," Haku pointed out. Pillows done, he walked over to discreet wardrobe and rummaged around in the drawers. "People noticed, and they talked. The staff won't be as welcoming to a human who they think is there for, um, less-than-noble purposes as they were to an innocent girl-child."

"Not like they were all that welcoming the first time around," I muttered under my breath. When Haku looked at me curiously, I quickly added, "But I'm still just as _innocent_ as I—Chihiro was back then! Why should their attitude change?"

He walked over and plucked the blanket out of my hands. "You know that," he said solemnly, staring into my eyes with those emerald ones of his. "I know that. Maybe even Yubaba and Lin and Kamaji believe that. But no one else does. And besides…" He paused. Without taking his eyes off of mine, he reached out to cradle the back of my head. His arm snaked around my waist, and suddenly I found myself held flush against his taunt, muscular, hard body. I flushed profusely but didn't step back. (I wonder why I didn't?)

He moved his lips to my ear to whisper, "I rather think that if I'm going to get my eyes raked out and my head bashed in over taking advantage of you, I should at least deserve the punishment, ne?"

I gulped; my throat was suddenly extremely dry. My mind shoved all the still-vibrant scenes from the encounter last night (had it only been last night?). Goosebumps appeared up and down my arms. I shivered in his gloriously hot embrace.

Haku noticed. Smirking, he released me. I wobbled but didn't fall over. He was walking towards the door when I just blurted out the words that were rolling around in my befuddled mind: "_Why didn't you kiss me_?"

He stopped. Turning, he allowed his gaze to rake my rumpled and disheveled yukata, my mussed hair, my flushed cheeks. "I promised to behave, didn't I?" He retuned his attention to the door. "You'd better get dressed into working clothes; we've got jobs to do, remember?"

I slowly nodded, even though he couldn't see me. I found the pink worker's uniform that I'd worn here before in the top left hand drawer of the wardrobe. I quickly slipped out of the yukata, unduly grateful that my underwear was still covering all the really important parts. The uniform wasn't easy to pull on, but I managed to do up all the straps to the appropriate partners. It would've gone faster, except that I wasn't really thinking about the straps.

I _was_ thinking about the fact that I'd asked him such a thing—"Why didn't you kiss me"?! What the hell had I been thinking?! That I had lost such complete control of my mouth wasn't unusual, sure, but to have said something like _that_…! Well, it made things even more mangled and confused than they already were.

Even more disturbing than that was the fact that I was thinking about it in the first place. It implied things that I really didn't want to consider just then, such as my feelings for this boy-dragon who had dragged me halfway across the world to dump me into playing a name game with a crazy old hag-witch in an enchanted bathhouse where all the staff thought I was a slut messing around with the local river god.

God help me, I had feelings—whatever those 'feelings' might be—for a freakin' _god_.

And once I thought _that_, all I could think afterwards was, _This cannot end well_.


	22. Chapter 21: Dressing

A/N Now completed. Please enjoy. :D

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki-san would have problems with that.

_**Chapter Twenty-One: Dressing**_

I shook my head free of the thought. Feelings or no feelings, this was not the time to do anything but work and rescue my little brother. I tied the laces on the side of my blouse, jerking the knot. Right. Nothing mattered but my brother.

Without my permission, my gaze skittered to the young man--dragon--god--_whatever_--who stood silently at the door with his back to me.

Dammit!

I forced my attention back to my outfit. Had I missed a section? I _was_ wearing pants, right?

"I think I'm ready, now."

Haku turned around and promptly snorted. "You're wearing your jacket backwards."

"I am not!" I glared down at my front. "The ties are supposed to go in the front! How the hell do you tie them up, then?"

"Usually, the other women help each other get dressed in the evening." He took one step towards me, hands outstretched.

I stepped backwards as well.

"Don't even think it, dragon-boy."

He sighed. "You need to get dressed, Val-chan. _Properly._ Would you rather the staff think you're an idiot for not dressing yourself correctly? Or perhaps you'd like them to believe that you dressed in a _hurry_?"

I flushed redder than the Radish Spirit's hat-thing. "That's low, Haku," I snarled. "Real low. Even for you."

Even so, I loosened the jacket and stuck it on the other way, turning away from him as I did so. To my chagrin, the neck of the jacket was much less constricting than it had been before. Haku had been right, damn him. I kept my fingers curled against my palm so that they wouldn't accidentally-on-purpose scratch his perfect face when I felt his nimble, graceful fingers begin to fiddle with the straps on my back. Thank God for the starched blue apron I wore beneath it.

He was done quickly, tying up the last bow with a gentle tug. I grit my teeth.

"Thank you, Haku."

He raised an eyebrow. "No need to sound so happy about it, Val-chan."

"Look, let's just get this whole thing over with, alright?" I strode to the vacant doorway. "Let's rescue my brother so we can break this infernal spell and I can go home and you can get back to whatever the hell you were doing before you ran into me."

"No need to be hasty, Val-chan," he said, frowning. "Rushing will just make things worse."

"Taking my sweet-ass time will, too! I don't know how long David's body can last without his soul, and I will _not_ lose my brother!"

"You really love him, don't you?" Haku asked me quietly.

"I'd do anything for him. Even sell my soul."

Haku looked at me, and I sensed a deep sadness. "It's time for work," he said eventually.

I silently pushed the screen door open and motioned for him to take the lead.

It was difficult to keep up with him, at first. Either his legs had gotten longer since he'd returned to his actual form, or he had regained some amazing dragon-energy, because he fairly flew down the hallway. It was only when he saw me lagging almost an entire hallway behind him that he bothered to stop and wait for me.

"You have to walk faster, Val-chan," he told me when I finally caught up, panting. "We're running late as it is."

"You should slow down! And what's with the 'chan' stuff, anyway?" I made a face as we continued moving around the maze-like back corridors. "I'm not some girly-girl."

"You're not a man, either, and 'kun' is generally reserved for men and tomboys."

"I'd rather be a tomboy than a girly-girl," I muttered.

"Sorry? Didn't catch that."

"Never mind."

At Haku's rapid pace, we reached the front desk in no time. The frog sitting there started to sneer when he saw me, but stopped when Haku caught his eye.

"Lin?" His voice was clipped, tight, controlled. _Oh, yeah,_ I thought, swallowing a smirk. _He's the boss._

The frog ducked his head, muttering, "Main washroom, Haku-sama."

Haku nodded curtly. He walked around the booth, ignoring the frog now that his question had been answered. I hurried to join him as he slid a paper screen out of the way to allow a fragrant waft of steam to billow into the lobby behind us. It curled around me like a bizarre cat, ready to take a snooze on my head. I felt the tips of my hair curl in the humidity. It sunk into my nose, tickling the sensitive hairs there with the oddly familiar scents of rose and thyme and oranges and some other herbs I couldn't name.

Haku didn't linger in the doorway. Stepping into the mist, he jerked his head at me to follow. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out and joined him in the hall. I didn't even try to keep track of the twists and turns we took; I was too busy trying to ignore the whispers that floated on the thick air to pay attention to anything else.

Lin was directing a group of spirit-women in the cleaning of a row of tubs when we arrived. She waved the workers on before bustling over to greet us. She smiled at me and scowled at Haku.

"What're you doing here?" she demanded. "You don't clean!"

Haku sighed. "I am now. I can't be separated from her, remember?"

"Great. Just great!" Lin looked ready to kill someone. "You're gonna be worse than she ever was!"

"Is that even possible?" someone quipped.

We all turned around to find all the workers quite obviously eavesdropping.

"This doesn't look like scrubbing," Lin commented dryly. Immediately, they picked up forgotten brushes and resumed scouring the edges of the tub.

I had a sudden burst of inspiration. I tried not to rub my hands together with anticipation. It was sheer _genius_! Carefully not looking at Haku, I chuckled and said in a louder voice than strictly necessary, "They're not wrong, though, Lin-chan. I can't imagine anyone worse at scrubbing than I was at the beginning."

A snicker was quickly shushed by the others.

Lin raised one eyebrow at me, grinning. I raised both of mine. A moment of mystic female communication passed between us, while Haku was nonplussed, looking between us so quickly that I thought his head was going to snap clean off.

"That's right," Lin said. She, too, was loud enough to be heard over the scrape of bristles against porcelain. I hid a smirk. "I thought your hand was going to fall off with the effort of lifting up the wash rag, that first night. But we got you cleaning right, didn't we?"

"Yep, you sure did. You think you can do the same for Haku, here?" I slapped his shoulder, ignoring the suspicious glare he pointed my way.

"Oh, I think we can." Lin smiled slyly. "But we wouldn't want those nice clothes of his getting all messed up, would we?"

I shook my head, the edges of the scarf that covered my hair brushing my cheeks. "Of course not. Ladies?" I spoke up, clearly including the still-eavesdropping spirit-women in the conversation. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra set of clothes to loan this new worker, would you?"

Their eyes grew round with surprise and gleeful anticipation. "I might have a set, Sen-san," called one worker. She set her brush down and came forward, her mischievous smile folded into the wrinkles of her raisin cheeks.

Swiftly, I appraised her build. She was nowhere near tall enough to be close to Haku's size, but she was bigger than the other women. I nodded gravely, stifling the giggle that threatened to bubble out. "Thank you very much, ma'am, for your generosity."

The spirit-woman cackled, the others joining in until the room rang with laughter. "Oh no, thank _you_, Sen-san," she managed to say when the noise subsided.

Haku's face had fluctuated been bone-pale and tomato-red for the entire conversation. "I refuse!" he hissed now.

I merely raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And are you really going to work in _that_?" I waved at the pristine white cloth.

He smoothed his tunic front with a hand that, I noted bemusedly, trembled ever so slightly. "It's linen!"

Lin didn't even bother to hide her smile. Grinning wickedly, she grabbed Haku's arm and began to haul him bodily out of the room. "That's nice duds," she informed him with glee. "Gotta change you into something you can get mucked up. Girls!" she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing in the narrow hallway. "We've gotta get Haku-sama ready to work!"

With more snickering and giggles, the women dropped their cleaning supplies and ran for the hall. I was right behind them, Yubaba's spell vaguely tugging on my middle towards the elevators where, I sensed, Lin was pushing a very aggravated Haku into a tiny compartment where he had no room to run.

* * *

"Now tell me," Lin drawled as she and I leaned against the door to the workers' room. Squeals of delight occasionally erupted from behind the thin paper walls, and squat shadows flitted back and forth, clutching bits of what I presumed was clothing of some variety to their chests. I heard no growls or screams, so I assumed that Haku was behaving himself.

"Just what," she continued, "did Haku-sama do to deserve this?"

I crossed my arms, smiling. "You're telling me you're not enjoying this?"

She laughed and brushed some loose strands of hair away from her mouth. "Of course! But there were others ways to get the spirit-women's support than by cross dressing a dragon!" She giggled helplessly. "By all the gods, Sen-chan, you've grown up into an evil little thing."

Because her eyes twinkled as she said that, I mock-bowed to her. "Why, thank you!" I straightened. "If you think I'm bad, just wait until you meet David! He's a regular—"

My throat suddenly clogged, making it impossible to continue.

"David's…" Lin began. She coughed and tried again. "David's that little human you and Haku-sama left with Kamaji-san, right?"

I nodded. That required no air.

Lin sighed and put one arm around me. I leaned into her embrace. The rough jacket chafed my cheek, but Lin's words were soft. "Oh, Sen-chan, when will you ever get a break?"

I shrugged as well as I could. "Eventually."

The door opened quickly. If we had still been leaning on it, we would've fallen in. As it was, we had to back up to make room for the clearly pissed off dragon. I was surprised he wasn't breathing fire, actually.

His infuriated flush clashed with the Pepto-Bismal pink of the jacket and odd half-slacks. I glanced down. His legs were covered with an extremely dark green hair.

Lin and I looked at each other. Lin spurted, I giggled, and then it was too late: we started howling, unable to speak for quite some time.

"If you are quite finished…?" Haku growled when we had some modicum of control back.

I wiped away a tear and raised my head to look around him to the spirit-women. They fluctuated between giggling and cowering.

"Perfect!" I bowed deeply to them.

"Our pleasure, Sen-chan," said the worker who had donated her clothes. To my surprise, they bowed to me.

Lin nudged my side, nodding with approval when I raised my head.

Haku, still breathing heavily through his nose, took in the bowing spirits and our conspiratorial smiles. I swear, I heard the pieces click together in his head when he figured it out. He released the last bit of extra air with a slight huff, and I shook my head over his general male blockheadedness.

"And why couldn't you tell me?" he murmured, once again calm.

I smirked. "And ruin all the fun? I think not. You figured it out eventually, didn't you?"

"Eventually," he agreed, and stretched one leg out, examining the woefully short fabric. "Well, at least this can be fixed."

He muttered something under his breath, and I gasped as the legs of his trousers wiggled and lengthened to cover all his exposed skin.

"Those aren't supposed to go all the way down," I pointed out when my heart settled. Magic—it wasn't just Yubaba's gift. And I should remember that, I thought grimly.

He smiled. "I got used to jeans." Turning to the spirit women, he bowed and said, "Thank you for the loan. Are we ready to begin?"

"Hai, Haku-sama!"

As we filed down the corridor, Lin leaned over and whispered, "What're jeans?"

* * *

"I really wished you'd told me, though," Haku said later. We were back in his—our—room, getting ready for bed. I could see the first rays of dawn poke over the horizon through the cracked balcony door.

I snorted. "How could I? I came up with it on the spot. There was no time. Besides," I added, "your face was priceless!"

"Hmmm. I suppose it was." I heard him pad over to the balcony door to slide it completely open. I winced in the bright morning light. "I'll remind you of that someday, Val-chan."

I glanced at Haku while I slipped out of the jacket. His back was to me as he faced the cast sea that lapped the edges of the bathhouse.

"Well, that 'someday' better be soon, considering I'll be gone in three days with David."

His grip on the railing tightened, making the muscles in his back ripple. I turned away, determined not to do something stupid. Like touch him. Now. When we were alone and there was no chance Lin could interrupt with a mop.

It wasn't long before I was walking over to the rail, my head screaming at my weak will. Clambering on top of the railing, I let my legs dangle on either side. Wordlessly, we watched together as the sun creeped above the line of water. He relaxed slowly, the muscles in his back bunching and untying themselves. I complimented my control on keeping my hands to myself—they hadn't needed to help him relax like I'd feared (hoped) they would.

Eventually, Haku shifted against the railing, making my legs bang against the metal bars. I glared, my semi-peace disrupted.

"Sorry," he said easily. He stretched. "You know who you reminded me of?"

I leaned towards him, bracing my hands on my thighs. "You're really random, you know that?"

He was unfazed. "Lin. How you joked around with the spirit-women and how they did what you told them to do and all, it reminded me of Lin." He stopped, gazing at the sparkles on the water.

"And you thought I should've been…I dunno, quieter?" I guessed when he didn't continue.

His nostrils flared with sudden temper.

"Drawing attention to yourself is the last thing you want to do. First, there was the whole uniform thing. Fine. I get it. But then you went and volunteered to dangle from the rafters to get them clean, when I could have just as easily done it. Then you offered to play Little Miss Messenger between the guests and the front desk frog. And then you walked—Argh!"

"'Walked'?" I repeated, amused, when he refused to continue. "You're upset because I walked? I'm sorry I can't fly, Master Dragon-Pain-In-My-Ass, but that's how we mortals get around." I wiggled my toes at him, nearly tickling his elbow. "See? Toes. Feet. That's why we have them."

He flapped a hand at me, running the other across his face. I managed to catch his rather mangled reply: "Never mind. You're a girl…You should've…But you couldn't see…Oh, never mind!" He peered at me from between his fingers, the green of his eyes nearly glowing.

Removing his hand from his face, he demanded, "Do you have no sense of self preservation whatsoever? Do you know what could've happened if you'd insulted on of the spirits? If your rope had snapped with the damn rafter project? If you'd gotten lost?"

"Yubaba's spell would've told you where I was."

"You're not listening!" he snapped. His chest heaved with his temper, as if there was something pounding on his ribs, trying desperately to get out.

I decided to stop teasing him. "Haku, I am the center of attention, whether I want to be or not. At school, I was the Weird One. Here, I would've been the Slut Mortal, if I hadn't worked to change that." I yawned and dismounted the rail. Resing my palm on his skin, I felt his heart hammer through his veins. "Besides," I added, meeting his intense stare, "I knew you'd be there to catch me if I'd fallen."

His cheeks turned a bright pink while his mouth worked like a landed fish.

I chuckled and let him off the hook. "Though that might've brought the Slut Sister image back around." I waggled my eyebrows suggestively, startling a laugh from him.

Before I could take my fingers from his arm, his free hand gently trapped mine there. Making sure he had my attention, he said, "Be careful."

I didn't think he was talking about the bathhouse. My cheeks now cherry-red, I nodded quickly, tugging on my fingers before I did something really stupid.

He let them go, and I swiftly retreated to the room to lay on my futon. Squeezing my eyes shut and willing my heart to slow, I waited until Haku had settled on his own futon, breathing even and deep. Quickly and quietly, I grabbed my backpack of journals and snuck back onto the balcony. With the sound of waves slapping the stone far below echoing in my ears, I reached for my very first journal. As light as I'd been with Haku earlier, I was deathly worried. I wasn't sure I'd make it another day, let alone to the end of the third. I leaned against the railing and began to read as the sun climbed through the sky and the bathhouse slept.


	23. Chapter 22: His Confession

A/N: My favorite chapter to date.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki-san would have a problem with that.

_**Chapter Twenty-Two: His Confession**_

I was finishing the last journal when the sun finally sank below the horizon. It looked like a blindingly bright jawbreaker with all of its candy-red coating floating in the wavelets that murmured far, far below my perch. My head swam with half-remembered dreams, where faces and limbs and voices crashed against my skull, slamming together into one long nightmarish reel that played continually behind my eyeballs.

A groan broke the cycle in my mind. I turned, relieved, to watch as Haku extracted himself from the tangle of bedclothes.

"Hey, there," I said, trying to ignore the treacherously annoying thump in my chest when his bed-rumpled hair stuck out at odd angles.

"Hey, yourself." His smile was sleepy, but it dissolved into a frown when he noticed the journal lying open on my lap. "How long have you been up?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Uh-huh." He eyed my untouched bed. "And so you thought a little light reading would help?"

I cradled my journal to my chest, protecting it from his judgmental stare. "Might as well do something useful, right?"

My attempt at levity fell flat. "Val-chan, you need to sleep! Your body can't operate like—"

"And when did you become the expert on all things human?" I snapped. His glare was about to bore two holes in my arm, so I stuffed the journal back into my backpack with its fellows. "I know better than anyone what my body does and not need, thank you very much, Kohaku-_sama_!"

I didn't see him move, he was so fast. One second, he glaring at me from bed, his hands balled into fists in the blanket; the next, he was less than three inches from the tip of my nose, and I was sure I smelt a hint of electricity singeing his scent of rainwater and musk.

"_You are in my world now,_" he spat, sparks practically leaping from his nostrils. He snatched my backpack, easily blocking my outraged grabs for it. "And _that's_ something your damned journals can't help you with, _Chihiro_!"

He expected further attacks for the bag, but never him. My slap seemed to reverberate in the space between us. The very air caught its breath.

"Bastard," I whispered, furious at how close to tears I was. With Haku my emotions ran wild, escaping my iron will to force me on a crazy roller-coaster ride that I couldn't get off.

Damn emotions.

Damn _pheromones._

He must've seen how close I was to losing all control, because he closed his eyes long enough that I could've counted each sinfully long lash. He opened them again with a stuttering breath, and the rage that had burnt there a moment ago had blown itself out, replaced by a strange vulnerability that I had never seen there before. It shook me, the weakness I saw the moment his shields were completely down—the weakness, and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on, though it seemed somehow familiar.

He blinked, and the moment passed.

"Bastard, yes," he said. "But you're stuck with me for a little while yet, so get used to it."

He didn't offer my backpack to me, not even as I brushed by him to enter our room. I knelt before the dresser and silently began to pull fresh clothes from the neat piles.

And I remained silent, even as we approached the elevator that would take us to Yubaba's rooms. Occasionally, the spirit women would shout a word or two of welcome to both of us, but otherwise we walked unhindered in the bustle of activity and noise that always accompanied the hour before patronage. I had apparently lost my novelty, which could be nothing but good for me.

Near the end of the hallway, I noticed Lin approaching out of the corner of my eye. She gave her rag and bucket to another servant who happened to be empty-handed, apparently intent of following us to Yubaba's as she had the night before; however, before she could reach us, Haku gave one sharp shake of his head, his hair fanning out in the misty air. Lin frowned, but she did not continue to follow us. For this, I was relieved: it was going to be hard enough with Haku there tonight, let alone her, too.

Yubaba was seated at her desk as we entered the opulent, dim chamber, idly combing her bejeweled fingers through a lacquered box filled with gold coins and the occasional ring. The door closed with a bang behind us, making my ears pop with the change in pressure.

"Have you a name for me, human?" the witch asked without bothering to look away from the twinkling treasure before her.

Haku stiffened, placing a hot, sweaty palm on my shoulder. Already regretting my answer, I wondered how long he would support me after I failed tonight's test.

I took a deep breath.

"Ogino Chihiro."

Yubaba did raise her head this time, grimacing. She waved my answer away as if it were nothing more than an annoying insect. "That was true once, human, but no more, and you know that!"

Though I had known she would reject my answer, I still felt a pang of despair strike me through the chest. My second chance to save David—gone.

"I do," I said softly when I could speak again, "but he didn't."

Only then did I dare to raise my eyes to look at the dragon standing at my side, and immediately wished I hadn't. His face had lost all color, and he appeared to have stopped breathing. Only his eyes retained any life, seething with confusion and betrayal and panic and anger and a pain that practically swamped everything else.

Yubaba cackled, seeing her retainer's suffering at my response. "You knew this would happen, did you?" I flinched. "You did! Well, feel how well you have tortured your precious _friend_."

The last word twisted and stretched between her lips, becoming something tacky and foul that I wish she'd never said.

"No!"

I turned, startled by Haku's exclamation. He was still staring at me, but this time desperation animated his features to give him a haunted, terrified expression that scared me more than his shout had.

And then what felt like a fist hit my temple, and a bright light threw Haku's sharp features into stark relief. The world collapsed around his face until I could see its afterglow shining behind my lids. That, too, slowly faded, and I was left to drift alone in the darkness of unconsciousness.

Then, with the inevitable strength of a tidal wave, I was swamped with a flood of sensations, emotions mixed with half-formed words and fragmented images that I could only drowsily absorb as I swam through the dark.

Worry—_how long is she going to stay under this time last time it was only half an hour its been at least an hour oh gods whats going to happen to her—_Anger—_yubaba that bitchwitch how dare she cast a spell on her shes a human not a spirit the idiot cant even keep the Conventions straight ill rip her throat out after this i really will—_Confusion—_why cant i help her why does she keep using those damn books all she ever did was fail why wont she trust me to keep her safe why havent i been able to protect her why…!_

And a warmth that tinged all, a warmth that seemed to cause all the other feelings. My sleeping self shied away from it, as if afraid of getting burned. I moaned, shifted against some constraint that prevented free movement, and the torrent abruptly ceased, save for one moment/thought/emotion/color/experience:

_shes awake_

That one moment was then followed by a rush of relief and that warmth, now so great that my eyelids fluttered open to find Haku peering down at me. I stared at him, reading the relief that I'd felt, that and a glimmer of the volcanic warmth that had just roused me.

I shifted infinitesimally, and immediately Haku set me down completely on the futon. We were back in the room. Haku had apparently been cradling me, waiting for me to wake up. I waited to feel embarrassed, but could only feel a weird tender feeling that seemed to be emanating from my belly.

I frowned. This was not a new emotion—I'd felt it often enough tucking David in at night—but it was entirely in the wrong context.

"Haku, I don't feel…right."

A flash of annoyance shot through the warmth as soon as I finished speaking, but this time I could sense that it wasn't _my_ annoyance. It was too…too _masculine_, for lack of a better word…to be mine. Haku's sudden tenseness confirmed my guess.

"What the _hell_?!" I sputtered. The annoyance grew. "This is just _wrong_, Haku."

"Indeed," came the terse reply.

"I can _not_ be feeling what you're feeling!"

"You can and are," Haku snapped at me. He rose and stalked over to the balcony, staring out at the water. Sitting up a bit, I could see the lights that dipped and rose on the crests of each wave, crawling across the expanse with the first ferry of the night. Slowly, I felt his annoyance recede into calm, replaced by a grey/soft/misty weariness.

"At least I'm not hearing your thoughts anymore," I grumbled. Panic rippled through me, making me slightly nauseous. Haku whipped his head around.

"You were reading my thoughts?"

I sat up slowly, and an additional spike of anxiety drove into me. I quickly resettled onto the cot. "Alright, I'll lay down, jeez! Yeah, right before I woke up. I can't hear 'em anymore—maybe because I'm thinking now?" I shrugged as well as I could on my back. "I don't know magic, that's your forte."

He was quiet—too quiet—but the panic had receded, at least.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ventured after a long pause.

"No." His answer was swift and biting. The weariness was now shot through with melancholy and…and _wistfulness_?

Too bad. "Bitch-Witch," I said slowly, weighing the syllables on my tongue as I sounded them out. "Not a bad nickname for ol' Wart Face."

Amusement flickered and died, though his face remained impassive. "Fine." He came to me again and sat cross-legged at the foot of my cot. I eyed him down my legs, wary of the rush of warmth that had accompanied him as he came closer. Maybe the connection strengthened with proximity. "What else did you hear?"

"Can I sit up and have this conversation like a real person and not a sickie?" I demanded.

This time the amusement graced his face as well, lifting away some of the weariness that had settled into infinitesimally small lines by his eyes and mouth. He inclined his head, and I sat up with a sigh, making him smile.

"That's better. Now, what did you want to know?" I asked, stretching my arms above my head.

A surge of heat—fiercer than the warmth that had thus far been the dominate emotion—struck me, freezing me in mid-stretch. Just as suddenly, it was crushed, leaving my belly cold in the aftershock.

"What the hell was that?"

"Tell me what you heard first." He spoke calmly, but I could still detect a faint hint of the fire that I had felt in my every pore.

"Well…" I decided to start with the easiest question first. "What're the Conventions?"

Haku's worry, which had set in after my initial question, receded a little. "Guidelines for magic, set long before sentient beings roamed the earth. Every apprentice magician learns them."

"Which one did Yubaba break?"

"Thou shalt never utilize magic in its purest and rawest form unpermitted on a sentient being capable of giving its consent." It sounded as if he was quoting from a book.

"Though," Haku added bitterly, resentment curling in me, "many magicians make it their specialty to get around such laws, Yubaba being one of the worst. I'm sure she justified it with your acceptance of the game."

"Then how did you use magic on me?" I blurted out.

His complete and utter confusion at my statement was clear. "What are you talking about?"

I blushed, looking away. I was unable to feel the embarrassment myself, having Haku's feelings as I was, but the warmth that had permeated my stomach somehow made the blood rush to my cheeks so much more easily. "Just, times it felt like I was trapped, and dizzy, and the only one who ever managed to do that was you." I glared through the layers of emotion I was experiencing. "And don't even try to tell me you didn't!"

"I didn't," he said, and his confusion confirmed that he was speaking the absolute truth.

"Hmph." I was not convinced. "Anyway. What else did you want to know?"

He hesitated, and I felt the tenderness reemerge like a fire flower blossoming in my core. I shuddered. "Did you feel…anything else?" He was unsure, I both heard and felt that.

I turned away from him so I couldn't see his face as I responded. "Anger, worry. Resentment. Confusion. Desperation. Panic." My voice became ragged as I moved on, as sadness moved through me. "And this weird…_affection_, I guess, like a pet dog or something, right?" My laughed sounded as fake and forced as it was.

"No," Haku said softly. "Never that."

"And there it is again!" I exclaimed irritably. "That…that damn _feeling_ again!"

"What feeling, Val?"

I glared at him, my stomach rolling like I was at the edge of a cliff or just ready to throw up. "I don't know what the hell it is, Haku! It's this stupid warmth, like I just waded into a warm patch of water in the pool or I'm in my bed or wrapped in—"

I saw where that thought was going and abruptly choked it off. No reason for him to know he was more present in my mind than was sane.

A moist dot appeared on the blanket covering my legs. I licked my lips to taste salt. Now why had I started crying? When I tried to speak again, my throat was coated in phlegm, making it husky and low.

"What are you feeling, Haku? I've never felt anything like this. I don't understand, I don't want this, I don't—"

My lips were suddenly unable to continue forming words as they were too busy being kissed. Memories that were not my own swirled around my mind, flickering in and around the warmth that had swelled so much that I felt that I would never be cold again.

—_laughter at a poor joke—fingers on a forearm, clammy with the sweat from the hot evening air—"You really love him, don't you?"—whispers in a shell-like ear—porcelain-pale skin backlit by moonlight, eyes dark and wide as they stared up, scared and anxious—mop fights—blockheadedness—tree-night-shadows dancing across a cheek—tears in the rain—desperately trying not to look at a gaping yukata—the smell of salt and woman and sweat trapped in cotton clothes—fist curled and striking against a chest—flashing metal as it turns over and over in nervous fingers—a cup of soup—harsh words and tender eyes towards a brother—a rose—a party—a kiss—_

"_You really love him, don't you?"—_

"_Love him, don't you?"—_

"_Love"_

His mouth left mine slowly, unwilling to leave them for even a moment, but from the reluctant acknowledgement that grew in my gut, I knew he knew that this could not—should not—continue. We finally parted, and I saw my disbelief reflected in his brilliantly green eyes. He blinked and, getting to his feet, made his way to the balcony once more like a blind man, despair cooling the heat that had been growing in me.

"Haku."

He refused to turn.

I stood and carefully walked towards him, ignoring the increasing discomfort and desire to flee that curled within. "Haku. This is…unexpected."

A harsh laugh ripped from his throat, and a twisted kind of humor rotted the storm of emotions. "Surely you're not serious. Everyone could see it!"

"Well, I'm not everyone!" I shouted, crossing my arms and forcing my face between him and the lake. I watched as he was forced to focus on me for a split second before agony seared me and he resolutely shifted his gaze towards the water once more.

"No," he said. "You certainly aren't."

The warmth was still there, but tempered by black emotions. Hopelessness added to the despair already present, as did a sense of futility, of inevitability that seemed as unshakable as the mountains.

"And you know what?" he said eventually. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

Anger ripped through my gut, making me gag as he continued on, oblivious to my discomfort. "You are Ogino Chihiro. I can feel it, I felt it a year ago! I followed it to find her—find you—only to find her—you—changed beyond recognition, tortured beyond even my wildest imaginations, and I felt _protective_ of you! You, a dreadful little human nothing destined to rot away and die!"

"You still do." And he did—I could feel his need to shield me from even himself and his cruel words circle restlessly within me, warring with the frustration and rage.

I almost felt something akin to hate as he replied, "I wish I didn't."

I swallowed against the storm, feeling more tired than I'd ever felt before. I laid a hesitant hand on his arm, and quickly pulled away as he flinched. "C'mon, Haku. We've gotta go to work, remember? Save my broth—save _David_, right?"

Haku took a deep breath and shoved away from the rail. "David. Right. He's all that matters." He went to the door, turning to face me. "Well? Are you coming, then?"

His brusque manner might've hurt me, if I hadn't been able to feel his own pain, feel the warmth—the _love_—that I realized now that he harbored for me despite everything, even from the beginning.

"Yes, I'm coming." I walked to the door as he started down the hall. "And, Haku?"

He paused.

"You know those memories you were thinking about? From earlier? They weren't about Chihiro."

He continued walking, but I felt a surge of confusion mingled with warmth and resentment. I smiled, my lips feeling full and bruised with attention.

I just loved messing with people, especially my dragon-boy.


End file.
